13
by SillyItalians
Summary: After a mass power outage, the nations discover that everyone in the world is missing. As they try to uncover the truth, they unwittingly become pawns in a battle to reclaim Earth. As an ancient prophecy unfolds, the so-called "Judgement Day" draws nearer and nearer... the day the ultimate sacrifice will be made... Rating may go up in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

**So, chapter one! If you clicked on this story, thank you! I appreciate it! All reviews are welcome, and it would be great if you could tell me how the story's going. Thanks, and read on!**

"… _and humanity crumbled into oblivion, as its people held faith in the lords of their country that now cease to exist…"_

"So, I was talking to her the other day," America said, munching on a hamburger. "And do you know what she said to me?" It was lunchtime at the world convention, and most of the nations were huddled into groups, mostly consisting of three at a table. The room was abuzz with news, gossip, and rumors. Sometimes, laughter would ring throughout the room

"I could imagine," England muttered, picking at a salad (probably about the only thing he could make correctly).

"She told me to piss off! What kind of woman does that?!"

"Plenty. Especially towards you." England pointed his fork at America, which had a piece of lettuce stuck to it.

America glared at the Brit. "You're not helping anything!"

"Clarify what I'm supposed to help you with."

"See? That's why no one likes you! You're too grumpy!"

"I thought it was because I kicked all their bloody asses," England said, concealing a grin.

"Why can't you go make some friends? Other than your 'friends'."

"Because, as you said, no one likes me."

"Maybe if you didn't act so pissy, you would have some real friends."

"I do have real friends! You just haven't met them yet!"

"Really? Name one!"

"Well, there's Alfonse… and Evan… and –"

"You just ripped off my name and Russia's. Really, you're absolutely horrible at social skills unless it involves swearing. Then, you're a pro."

"I'm horrible? Look at yourself! You talk with your mouth full! Could've sworn I taught you better…"

"You didn't teach me to do anything except how to make scones that taste like –" Abruptly, the lights blacked out, and everyone started complaining noisily.

"Seriously?!" America snapped. "Why? There wasn't even bad weather!"

"Power outage," England grumbled. "Great. Just great. Now, Germany's going to hound our asses because we're off schedule." After a few seconds, it became eerily quiet, as if a mute button had been pressed.

"Err... what the hell happened?" America asked. "Anyone here? Hello?!" His voice echoed around the room. It was eerily silent, especially because it was supposed to be filled with nations…

"Why is it so quiet?" England asked.

"I dunno…" America said. "If this is a trick, guys, cut it out!" No one answered, unless you counted the wind whistling. After a few seconds in utter silence, the lights flickered back on.

"No one's here," England said, standing up; America followed suit. The lunchroom was completely deserted. The room once filled with laughter and conversation was empty. Even the lunches had been left. There was definitely something wrong; the forks, spoons, and chopsticks seemed to be levitating in thin air, just as the owner had left them. Belongings were left discarded on the floor, and an odd smell hung in the air

"Why did they leave? Where'd they go?" America asked, picking at one of the chopsticks, with a failed effort to make it move. "What happened?"

"I don't know," England said.

"Guys!" France yelled, bursting into the lunchroom. He looked rather harassed and on the verge of panicking, and his "perfect" hair was windblown. "Where's everyone?!" He spotted America and England, and said, "Well, you guys are here. At least..." He seemed to calm down a little after seeing the two, though he still looked harassed and confused.

"Whaddya mean?" America asked.

"Everyone else is gone! No one's outside! No one!"

That was certainly strange. "Well, that's not… normal."

"Did you check everywhere?" England asked, afterwards muttering, "Probably tried to find a brothel."

"I didn't!" France snapped. "Besides, I _did _check! Everyone's gone!"

"Really?" England asked, doubt in his voice. "Everyone just disappeared like—" he snapped his fingers, "that? Over seven billion people, gone?"

"England, quit acting pissy," America snapped. He turned to France and said, "You sure?"

"_Oui,"_ France said, nodding.

"Even the nations?" If the nations suddenly disappeared, where were they?

Again, France nodded. "As soon as the lights blacked out, I went outside. There was absolutely no one, I swear!"

America was finding it hard to believe France. Where would seven billion people go? "I –"

"You have to trust me on this one! Look," France ran over, grabbed America's hand, and started leading him towards the lunchroom exit, "I'll show you, _there's no one out there!_" France wrenched the door open and gestured outside. France had been right; not a living soul could be seen. It was an absolute wasteland outside. The empty skeletons of buildings stood silently against the dark sky, standing as remnants of a lost civilization. Wind whistled through the houses and buildings, blowing leaves and paper along with it. The sun was covered by blood-red clouds, even though it was midday. Bins were knocked over, spilling their rubbish everywhere. Rats scurried across the streets, picking through the rubbish and squeaking noisily.

"Where-where'd everyone go?" America quietly asked, gazing at the dead expanse. England silently creeped up and peered outside.

"I don't know; I've been spending the last hour looking for them. They're nowhere."

England looked at France curiously. "'Last hour'? It's only been a few minutes. Or can you not read your own watch now?"

France shook his head. "No, it's been an hour. And yes, I can still read my watch." Just to prove his point, France showed England his watch, which was digital. An hour had passed. It read, in blocky letters, 12:24.

"What?! But-but…" America couldn't find anything to say. "How is this happening?" America then took off his watch and showed France it. As England had said, it had only been a few minutes since the blackout. His watch read 11:26.

"That can't be right…" France muttered, glancing at his watch. "Either your watch is slow, or mine's fast."

"Hold on," England said. "Maybe there was an electrical storm?"

Both looked questioningly at England.

"What the hell is an electrical storm?" America asked, holding his steel watch.

"Think it's something like a solar storm…"

"Alright, what the hell is a solar storm?"

"It's when the Sun releases a flare that messes up Earth's magnetic field, twit."

"Then how did it mess up our watches if we're nowhere close to space?!"

"Look at your watches." America and France both glanced at their watches, then looked back up at England. "They're electronic. The storm messed it up." England kicked a plastic water bottle. "Didn't Germany say that a similar thing went on in the Bermuda triangle? If the storm was strong enough, it might have messed up non-electronics as well."

"You're saying," France said, "that everything could be messed up?"

"Yes, that's what I've been saying, fuckwit!"

"No arguing!" America snapped. "We have no idea where the others are, and you're already starting to argue! We need to look for the others. Come on," America grabbed France's sleeve and started to drag him along, England jogging after, "we can't stand around –"

"Hold on!" France snapped, yanking his sleeve out of America's hand. He turned back to England and said, "There's no way it was a solar storm!"

"How do you know?" England snarled, stopping and glaring at France. "You barely know anything –"

"We," France corrected. "_We _barely know anything. But, it wasn't a solar storm."

England crossed his arms arrogantly. "Give me one good reason I should believe you, of all people."

"One, everyone wouldn't scatter because of something we couldn't even feel! Seven billion people can't disappear because of a storm!"

"Guys, come on!" America whined, turning to face the bickering nations. "We'll work on this later! We need to find the others!" When they didn't budge, America added, "They might know something about what happened."

"Fine," England muttered grudgingly, after a few seconds of deliberation. "Just don't ask me to work with him," he pointed hatefully at France, who only shrugged.

"Good," America said, turning back around, "now, we can—" Just then, something darted across, too fast for America to see any defining details. The thing passed by in a blur. It was wearing something dark...

"Did you see that?" America asked, pointing at where the thing was and looking back at England.

"See what?" France asked.

"That thing…"

"What thing?" England piped up.

America shook his head. "Never mind." Did he just imagine it? He looked back at where the thing had been. Just then, another thing darted by, a thick black colour, in the same direction as the other thing.

Before America could say anything, France looked behind himself, apparently seeing something off. "Where's the conference centre?"

He glanced back, and saw that the conference centre had disappeared, as if it had been wiped off the face of the earth. The only reminder of it existing were the twisted metal pipes and the torn down flag posts, with all of the different flags laying on the ground.

"What the hell is going on?!"

"I don't know," England said, "but it's definitely not good." And England was true, sadly.

**Okay, so, for those that slaved through, I appreciate it. The first chapter is never the best. Alright, so (for once) France is right: it wasn't a solar storm (pick up on everyone missing, the static blur America saw, the disappearing conference centre, and the magically levitating utensils). If it wasn't that, what was it? Quotes are at the beginning to kinda foreshadow what's going to go on in the chapter or later in the story. Or something that relates to the story or the characters.**** Anyway, thanks for checking out the first chapter! Read, favourite, follow, comment, lurk in cyberspace, I don't care. Just NO inappropriate reviews (as in, lewd crap, unnecessary flames, etc.). Also, there will be British terms in here. Most of them, you guys can probably guess on, but for the trickier ones, I'll include the American term for it as well. (Like, a "torch" would be "flashlight" in American English.)**

**Note that their watches were set to different times, even though they started at the same time. Also, I'll tell you, there will be some supernatural stuff going on. Freaky stuff!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two! Hopefully, this one'll be better than the first!**

"_And just like that, he disappeared,_

_Into the inky black waters below…"_

Germany quietly padded through the forest, pushing aside the twigs and branches, trying to keep a piece of cloth to his left eye. After discovering everyone was gone, he had tried to find them. So far, his search was unsuccessful. The forest was rather creepy. It held… strange creatures that weren't the least bit friendly. They had struck up the nerve to attack him, only getting in one cut before they had rapidly retreaded. The cut so happened to land over his eye. The dark shadows stretched out, clawing at Germany's boots and anything else that was close enough. It seemed to be about six pm, though it only felt like an hour since everyone disappeared. He kept seeing strange shadows darting across the ground, though the caster of them was unknown. The setting sun freakishly elongated the shadows; if he stood still, his shadow could've been mistaken for that of the Slender Man.

"Where the hell are they?" Germany muttered to himself, pushing aside a branch, referring to the nations. _What the hell is going on?_ Whatever was going on wasn't natural; no, it was quite unsettling. No one could disappear within a few seconds. How could that work? Unless…

"It wasn't a few seconds." The realization was rather shocking. Time was being warped. Somehow, it was, though it was rather perplexing. What was strong enough to tear the fabric of time to where certain areas slowed or speeded time? Germany pulled out his cellphone (which Prussia had gotten for him, despite there being relatively little need for it) and checked the clock on it. Instead of numbers, though, strange alien symbols replaced them. One looked like a reverse four, the second looked like a half-circle, and the last one looked remotely like a marked out seven.

_Strange, _Germany thought. This had been going on for at least a "week" now. Every time he stepped near a certain zone, the numbers would be replaced with static symbols. When he stepped away from these "warp zones", as Germany called then, the numbers would revert back to normal. However, the numbers had been replaced by these symbols for a few days now. Germany could've sworn he felt eyes on him, yet, when he turned, there was no one there. This idea once did seem logical, no one being there, before the things had attacked him and changed everything. Apparently, logic had been overthrown, replaced with abnormality and irrationality. It irritated Germany, not knowing anything.

Suddenly, he heard a snap, as a boot came down on a dry twig. Germany quickly scanned the area. If it was one of those things again, he would be dead meat. They were too fast for Germany to even keep up. Whoever had snapped the twig cursed in some unknown language. They had a rather deep voice, which sounded almost musical. Then, another person snapped at them, apparently telling them to be more careful. This person's voice sounded lighter, more jovial than the first person. They continued to argue about something in hushed tones, snapping more twigs and rustling leaves.

Finally, the first person snapped, in English, "Why did we even land here?! Could we have not gone to another planet less—" they, apparently a man, kicked something that sounded like a can, "filthy?" What? Landing? Another planet? _Filthy?!_

"Our Lord chose to come here," the second person said bitterly, sounding like a woman. "Although I do not see why, he obviously has his reasons. We must trust him."

"We trusted the last ruler!" the man hissed. "And guess what he did? He went to war against the Archlides!" Germany stopped trying to understand at this point. Slowly, he crept towards the people, careful not to step on anything that could've made some sound. It was rather painstaking, being in boots and only able to see out of one eye.

"That was the last ruler, Ezexion," the woman said tiredly. "Our ruler is wise and reasonable."

"And? Who is to say that this one is not of the same mind, Alara?"

"We have his word that he will not act rashly –"

"He did when he sent us here because of a few mongrels!" Germany heard Ezexion kick a tree angrily, then he swore out of pain.

"You are lucky trees are not animate on this planet," Alara mocked, restraining a laugh. Finally, Germany came across some bushes that were close enough to see the strangers. Deciding to be nosy, Germany managed to hide behind what looked like a blackberry bush. Slowly, he peered over the top. One of them, the woman, had long green hair that was tied back into a ponytail. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark-wooded trees. She had a rounded face with sharp cheekbones and a vicious glare. Her partner, however, was much harder to see, simply because his dark skin nearly blended in with the trees. His lemon yellow eyes were piercing and almost hawk-like. His hair, like Alara's, was oddly coloured, being a dark shade of purple. He had an angular face with a square jaw and a Roman nose. A scar ran across his left cheek.

"We are lucky because we have not had the _fortune_ of meeting the Renwides!" They were also wearing armor, which looked to be made of Kevlar. The armor went from a snowy white around the head to a brownish colour at the shins and feet. They seemed to walk more than fight, but the two had some sort of gun at their side. It looked extremely high-tech, compared to the guns America always showed off to Germany ("Look at the gun I have!" "Don't point it at me!").

Alara sighed. "True, but we have yet to find a human." Just then, a rabbit hopped just behind the bush, snapping a twig as it went along. The two soldiers quickly looked exactly where Germany was. Immediately, he ducked his head, though he felt rather certain they had seen him. He prayed to God they didn't find him. Then again, fate didn't favor him in these circumstances.

"What was that?" Alara asked slowly, as if she were unsure what to say.

"Those fluff balls the humans call rabbits," Ezexion said sourly, drawing out his gun.

"Do not shoot the rabbit," Alara said, pushing back the gun. "It did not do anything wrong."

"I am not shooting the rabbit," Ezexion said, staring almost evilly at Germany.

"Then what are you -?" She found where Ezexion was staring, and seemed to realize Germany was there. Her look of mild irritation quickly warped to outright anger.

"You will not shoot him!" she snapped, ripping the gun out of his hands.

"And what reason would that be for? The Lord said so? This human was spying on us! How do we know he doesn't work for the Renwides?!"

Alara sighed. "We do not."

"Exactly!" He snatched back the gun, glaring at his partner. "We cannot take chances!" Germany started to back away from the bush, not wanting to be on the receiving end of their guns. Even if the guns looked fake, he didn't want to test that theory on himself.

"But it still does not entitle you to kill him!"

"How does it not?! He could be a spy –"

"Our Lord said we do not kill any human!"

"And may I ask why?"

"He has faith in the humans that they are wise enough to not side with the enemy," Alara hissed.

"And perhaps they are not?" Ezexion snapped. Feeling confident that he would not be seen again, Germany started to sneak off, but overlooked a twig and stepped on it. The crack alerted the two soldiers, and they quickly snapped their heads towards Germany. The girl, Alara, was eyeing him with a look of curiosity, while the man, Ezexion, glared at him with outright hostility. It was a tense few seconds, ones of utmost silence that felt more like an eternity. Finally, quicker than lightning, the man pointed the gun at Germany and pulled back the trigger, and a loud crack ripped through the air. Instinctively, Germany ducked, and the bluish bullet exploded into a tree, sending wooden shrapnel everywhere. In this situation, Germany favored flight over fight, and he took off, kicking up clouds of dead leaves and dust. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the man was swearing and chasing after him, though the man didn't seem to be able to keep up.

If Germany had tried to keep track of how many turns he took, the map would've looked like a mass of scribbles. After about a minute, the man seemed to give up, and the forest was silent yet again. Gradually, Germany slowed down, until he finally stopped in a clearing. The trees that had once stood there had been ripped from their trunks, leaving splintered trunks scattered about. It looked as if a bulldozer had ran through, upsetting even the tree stumps that were lopsided on the ground, the splintered ends of their roots showing. There was some sort of bluish sap that covered the ground… whatever the hell was going on, he wanted to find out.

Suddenly, there was a scream, and the sound of snapping twigs followed after. Germany quickly looked over; if it was those things or the people again… Well, whoever it was screamed like a girl, and they kept yelling –

"GERMANY!" Italy screamed, nearly knocking Germany off his feet as he ran into him. "Germany! Germany! There's people following MEEE!"

Still trying to catch his breath, he didn't hear the last part right. At least, he thought he did.

Just as Germany was about to ask, "What people?", Japan came after, looking quite worried. As soon as he saw Germany, however, relief seemed to flood his face.

"Germany-san!" he said rather happily. "I thought we had lost you!" Japan noticed the cut across Germany's eye, but didn't say anything. He only nodded, as if he understood why the cut was there.

"Why?" Germany asked, having to pry himself away from Italy's teary hug. "I know this place full –" Then, he stopped. Japan hadn't meant he had forgotten where he was. Japan thought he had died.

"Yeah, and there were these things (I don't know what they were) and they were creepy, and," Italy blurted out, quickly hugging Germany again, "and, then there were these people with guns, and –"

"Italy, could you be quiet for a second?" Italy looked up at Germany, looking overly excited to see him again.

"Yeah!"

Germany looked back at Japan. "What did he mean, 'people with guns'?" Germany really hoped that they weren't the same people he had seen. Then again, if they weren't, that meant that there were more of them.

"Err, well, we saw them a few miles back, they didn't seem to notice us –"

"What did they look like?" Germany didn't have much room for patience. If they were the same people, that meant they could be on their trail.

"One of them had green hair –"

"Shit," Germany muttered.

"Germany, no bad words!" Italy said.

"Why? What's wrong?" Japan asked.

"I saw the same people. They're following us."

Japan instantly paled, while Italy squeezed Germany even harder.

"I don't like those people!" Italy whined. "They looked mean –"

"I don't like them, either," Germany said impatiently.

"Did they say anything?" Japan pressed.

"Only that they were other creatures in the forest," Germany quickly said. He didn't say anything else, though. They would understand it as well as Germany had.

"Is that how you got -" Japan drew a line across one of his eyes, "_that?"_ Germany nodded slightly.

"Got what?" Italy asked, stepping away from Germany. "What'd he get?"

"Nothing," Japan quickly said. "We need to move, correct?"

"Yes," Germany replied, relieved to have avoided that topic. "Italy, go on ahead."

"But, what did he –" Italy stopped, now noticing the cut. "But, why – how did you – who –"

"Go ahead. We'll catch up."

"But –"

"_Go."_ With a sad nod, Italy trotted glumly ahead.

"What 'creature'?" Japan asked.

"Err… I'll tell you later." Germany followed after Italy, who was about thirty feet ahead. Japan quickly caught up with Germany.

"I feel as if you are not telling us the entire truth, Germany-san. Is it that you do not trust us?"

Japan's comment took Germany aback. "Why the hell wouldn't I trust you?!"

Japan sighed. "Perhaps I said it wrong. I merely thought you knew that the creatures could change into others."

"No, they can't," Germany snapped.

Japan sighed again, and said, "I still feel as if you are –"

"I told you what was understandable."

"Well," Japan said, an edge to his voice, "what wasn't understandable?" Germany had obviously upset Japan.

"Well, apparently, there are aliens on this planet that do not like us, and others that want to see us disemboweled."

It took a while for Japan to finally say, "That _is_ confusing." Clearly, he had wanted to say, "Are you crazy!?"

"That's what I told you, but you don't trust me." _Whatever the hell trust is anymore. _After a while of walking, the grass faded into twig- and leaf-ridden flooring, accompanied by tall pine trees that stood bare.

Japan didn't talk to Germany for a long time. The only sounds were the occasional scamper of animals and the crunch of twigs. Eventually, the sound of croaking frogs and cricket chirps soon blended in. Fireflies began to dance around, causing Italy to nearly hurt himself numerous times trying to catch one. The sun was beginning to set, turning the horizon shades of red and yellow, while the topmost sky was near black. It seemed to resemble the German flag, except the German flag didn't have fireflies on it.

When Italy had finally decided to talk to Germany, the sun had long fallen, and the air was getting colder.

"Germany, I'm tired," Italy whined.

Germany had to admit, he was too. He could barely feel his feet (he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or walking so much), and he ached all over.

"I suppose we can make camp here for the night," Germany muttered.

Italy got distracted by another firefly, and began a frantic chase to capture it. He ran into a pine tree, fell down, got back up, and chased the firefly again.

Germany sighed and sat down, leaning against one of the trees. Japan sat cross-legged on the ground.

"Should we make a fire?" Japan asked.

Germany almost said yes, but thought against it. Before he met the people, he had his cellphone on… which shined light everywhere… and he kept feeling as if there had been people staring at him. Also, he had a small torch (flashlight) when the attack happened…

"I don't think so," Germany slowly said.

"Why not? We'll freeze!"

"Look, if we have a light out, those… things… will attack us! I'd rather be cold than dead (or horrifically injured)!"

Italy fell down again, skinned his knee, and started crying. After a while, he got distracted by another firefly, and began pursuing it.

"At least Italy's having fun," Germany muttered, watching Italy whirl around, trying to find the firefly again. Eventually, he gave up, and curled up into a ball on the ground. By now, the moon shone like a sliver coin set against black velvet. The air barely stirred with a gentle breeze. Frog croaking, cricket buzzing, and owl hoots filled the air, creating a peaceful melody that would make even the worst insomniacs fall asleep. The lulling sound of a flowing river nearby made it even easier to drift into dreaming. The hooting of the owls soon joined in, the deep notes blending in with the symphony. The stars shined like diamonds, and the trees stood like shadowy needles against the moonlight. In a way, the forest felt like a home; the comforting smell of minty pine needles and the crisp air provided a sense of comfort, while the trees held a sense of security about them.

"Germanyyyy…" Italy whined.

"What now?"

"I'm hungry."

"You can live," Germany muttered.

"Aww… but I'm _hungry!_"

For the first time, Germany realized he was also hungry. He had been so focused on finding the others, he had forgotten about food.

"We can find some in the morning," Germany cautiously said, feeling as if he were trying to defuse a bomb. "But, for now, we need to sleep."

"M'kay," Italy mumbled. He crawled over to where Germany was and curled up against him. Italy felt rather cold, and he was shivering. Germany took off his jacket and draped it across Italy like a blanket. A short while after, Japan sat down next to Germany. A few minutes later, the nations were fast asleep.

* * *

"Germany?" Italy asked, nudging Germany lightly in the ribs. Germany woke with a start; not enough to scare anyone, but one enough to cause Italy to lean back slightly. Sunlight filtered through the branches, illuminating parts of the ground and warming the air. A slight chill still lingered in the air from the nightly dampness. Songbirds cried, and the sound of the stream seemed even closer now.

"Wha…?" Germany was still trying to fully wake up.

"Japan wanted you to wake up." Italy was still wearing Germany's jacket, even though it was far too large for him.

Stretching out a little, Germany asked, "What time is it?"

Italy thought for a second, then said, "I think Japan said it was around ten. He did want you to be up at eight, but you wouldn't wake up."

Germany groaned. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"We couldn't! You sleep like a rock, Germany!"

This made no sense for Germany, and he started quizzically at Italy. "Rocks can't sleep."

Italy suddenly grabbed him by the arm and tried to drag him to his feet. "You need to get up!"

Germany sighed and jerked his arm out of Italy's grasp. Italy fell backwards, and looked like a turtle that had been trapped on its back.

"I can get up on my own," Germany muttered, standing up and helping Italy to his feet.

Germany smelled burning pine. "You started a fire?" He quickly saw a small pile of dead twigs piled up, along with a larger pile that had been set ablaze. Smart. Live branches produced the most smoke.

"Yeah! Japan accidentally torched your boot—" Germany looked down, only to see the toe of his boot was charred, "but you still didn't wake up!"

Just as Germany was about to say something, Italy started dragging him towards the river.

"Japan's been catching some fish for lunch—"

"Lunch?"

"Err, you slept through breakfast… Anyway, he's caught some really big fish! Some of them are like this big—" Italy let go of Germany's hand, just long enough to demonstrate how big the fish were; they were getting about a foot and a half long, apparently, "and this fat!" Again, he demonstrated how fat they were with his hands. They were getting about four to five inches wide.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Germany muttered, obviously disheartening Italy. He started to walk to the river alone.

"They are!" Italy said, jogging after. "Trust me!"

"Right…"

It took about a minute to weave through the forest before the two got to the river. It definitely wasn't what Germany had been expecting; he figured that there would be too many animals, but the only ones were tame rabbits and the occasional deer. The river stretched on for at least a few hundred meters, at most a good kilometer. The water was clear in colour, the only colour coming from the brownish-red river bed and from the glare of the sun. At the end (which was about a hundred feet away), there were mounds of white foam, and a steep waterfall.

Japan sat close to the river, with a makeshift fishing pole in hand and a wooden rack to his side. On it were some the largest fish Germany had ever seen; Italy hadn't been kidding when he had said the fish were fat and big. Japan had caught about five large fish, which were a silvery-bronze in colour. Other than being fat, they looked similar to salmon. Some of the smaller fish were in a net, ranging from a bright teal to a shiny gold in colour. They were only about five inches long, and they mirrored anchovies or minnows. Every now and then, Japan would splash some water on the caught fish, to try and keep the smell at range.

"See?" Italy said, pointing at the large fish. "I wasn't lying!"

Japan quickly looked over his shoulder, scared by Italy suddenly talking. His expression warmed when he realized it was Italy and Germany.

"So," he said, looking directly at Italy, "Germany-san finally woke up? I thought he was dead for a moment." The smile on his face eased the slight insult.

"Yeah!" Italy noticed the smaller fish. "What are the small fish for?"

"We can salt these fish and preserve them if we leave and can't find other food." He thought for a moment, then said, "Or, we could smoke them. Why?"

"Just asking… Hey, when's lunch going to be ready?"

"I have to catch the fish to cook the fish, Italy. Lunch probably won't be fixed for another hour."

"Aww…" Just then, Italy's stomach growled.

Japan sighed. "Could you at least find a fruit tree in the forest?"

Germany vaguely remembered passing by an apple tree going into the forest. However, it had been so dark, and everyone had been far too tired, that none of them noticed the red apples.

"Didn't we pass one on our way here?" Germany asked.

Japan thought for a while, then said, "I don't know. Perhaps we had. Maybe you could find the tree?"

Germany shrugged. "We won't if we stand here." Germany turned around, said, "Come on, Italy," then left, Italy happily trotting along behind him.

Japan turned back to his fishing. The water was so clear, he could see every fish scale glinting like silver in the sunlight. Japan cast out another line, the bright red bobble being gently rocked by the river current. Japan noticed something out of the corner of his eye. The water seemed to be churning viciously, coughing up white, bubbly foam… curious, Japan stood up, letting the river carry away the fishing pole; he could always make another, the reeds weren't too hard to find. Slowly, he padded over to the odd site. The water seemed to be making a type of whirlpool. Japan would've regarded it as a natural occurrence, had it not been for the inky black water. The rest of the river was clear, so why was this one spot black? There seemed to be something in it, sitting idly in the centre of the swirl. Tentatively, Japan reached out for the object, the cold, black water chilling him to the bone. As soon as he grasped it, he could tell it was some kind of gemstone; it was too smooth to be an uncut one, and too shiny to be gold. Just as he started to pull the thing out, and eerie feeling washed over him, causing shivers to creep up his spine. He looked behind himself, and could have sworn he saw a person standing there, right at the forest edge. He couldn't see the watery hand that reached out of the whirlpool, and only realized it far too late. And, just like that, Japan disappeared, into the inky black depths below.

**Alright, so, second chapter! Woot! So, this story is starting off a little slow, isn't it? Now, I can guess a lot of you had trouble with the names. Alara can be pronounced any way you want it to be, so I'll let you have control of that ("Uh-lare-eh", A-lahre-uh… doesn't matter). Ezexion is pronounced "Eh-zech-shee-ahn". Now, Renwides is plural for a Renwide. It is pronounced nothing like you probably think it was: "Rehn-wihd". Archlides, like Renwides, is plural. Also, it isn't pronounced "Arch-leeds." No, it's pronounced "Arch-lyeds" (like lied, except with an "s" at the end). So, as you can tell, this story obviously involves aliens and an ancient prophecy. What that prophecy is, I shall not tell you at the current time. Buh-bye! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, so this chapter centers around Russia and China. This was after Japan disappeared, or shortly after Germany and Italy went to hunt down an apple tree. Now, even though it's only been a few days, the time is being warped so drastically, it's actually almost a week passing in three days. Or, it could be vice-versa, in which time goes extremely slow, to where an entire week only counts as one day. You can expect some two to three passing days between chapters.**

"_Into the night he ran,_

_Leaving the others behind,_

_The ones that needed him most,_

_Letting the darkness swallow him…"_

Russia quietly walked through the forest, feeling certain that people had already been here. Behind him trailed a nervous China, squeezing his backpack like a stress toy. There hadn't been much chit-chat the last week, as some rather… unsettling… things happened. He had been walking for what felt like several days now, but the electronic calendar said otherwise. It said it was two weeks after everyone disappeared, which was the 15th of August.

"Err, Russia?..." China warily asked, his wok banging noisily at his side. He didn't prefer talking to Russia as much, partly because the entire thing seemed to be having an effect on Russia's personality. It wasn't exactly noticeable, but China could feel a stronger negative aura around him.

Russia turned to face China. "Yes?" His hair and eyes seemed duller, and the faintest of dark circles were shaded underneath his eyes.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Russia shrugged. "I don't know." He saw a tiny flashlight; the batteries in it were near dead, as the light beam was almost nonexistent, and it kept flickering on and off. Russia quietly bent to pick up the yellow flashlight, and inspected it. It was a small one, one that would typically be used in an emergency. Turning the handle over, he could faintly see the word "Germany" engraved on it. So, Germany had come through recently. At least they could find another nation. Russia could also see dried splatters of blood on the handle and on some of the trees and ground. Either something had attacked Germany, or Germany had hit something living with his flashlight.

"I don't like this…" China murmured, shifting his backpack onto his back and drawing out his wok.

Russia stood back up, flashlight in hand, and asked, "Why?"

"Because…"

"Because what?"

"I… feel… as if there are… things… staring at me… Can we please leave and go around the forest?"

Russia showed China the flashlight. "But, Germany's been through. And he could be hurt. We can't leave him."

China groaned. "I don't like this forest! There's something about it that gives me the creeps!" He nervously looked over both of his shoulders, just to see if anyone – or anything – had been there. As usual, the forest was devoid of life, other than some bugs that lived in the undergrowth, which Russia kept stepping on and hearing crunches. No wonder the bottom of his boots were covered in bug guts, some dead leaves sticking to them. At one point, he found a half-squished spider stuck in the tiny crevices of his boot. He had to dig it out with a stick, and a skeleton of a spider stuck on a stick with its guts oozing out is not a pleasant sight in the morning.

Russia sighed. "It's just a forest, China. There's nothing to be afraid of." He instantly wished he hadn't said that.

China shot him a scathing look. "Really? _'There's nothing to be afraid of'?_ Ha! If Germany is hurt, something attacked him, and that something could be in the forest, prowling as we speak!" At this, China shuddered.

"I doubt it." Russia turned back around. "Besides, we can't leave another nation when they might need us."

"You left Bels," China pointed out.

"She didn't need us," Russia mumbled. The real reason was that, even though she was his sister and he cared about her, it would get way too personal. She was a great sister, and he cared about her, but he wouldn't be able to deal with her and China in this situation. They were already struggling to find food. He couldn't deal with it before; what would it be like now, with his patience frayed to the point of snapping? No, it was for the group's good. Besides, she had Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. She would be safe and well-cared for.

China muttered something in Chinese, then said, "Where do we go?"

"Come along," Russia happily said, finally grateful that China was starting to trust him. In and out of the trees Russia weaved, almost like a fox, while China swatted furiously at branches and spider webs that got caught in his hair. He was more like an ox, though Russia didn't complain. He had his pipe and some vodka, China had a wok and a lighter… they were armed for anything. Almost. If they wanted to drink vodka out of a pipe and set something on fire or cook.

After about ten minutes of walking (and jogging), Russia stopped abruptly, causing China to run into him and nearly hit him with his wok.

"Why did you stop?" China hissed, backing up and glaring at Russia.

"That tree," he said, pointing to a tall oak one. "It's been shot."

China followed Russia's finger, and his eyes landed on the torn bark. The bark had been torn apart, leaving a shape like it had been hit with a disk. No bullet was known to do that.

"Well, it's not a normal gunshot," China finally concluded.

"Then, what was it?" Russia asked, walking over to the tree. China followed after, bearing his wok like a shield. The bark was singed all around, and crystallized sap coated the area.

"It looks like it's been hit by lightning," China said.

"But, it wasn't. I don't think lightning can just hit one part of the tree."

China sighed. "So, we have nothing. Other than Germany's flashlight, we know nothing."

Russia shrugged sadly. "Guess not." He had really been hoping to find something useful, but it seemed as if he was given the opposite.

China stalked away from the tree, leaning against another, muttering about how hungry he was. It was true that the small rabbits they had been able to catch weren't enough to satisfy their hunger. Even now, Russia's stomach pained with hunger, growling like a lion every time food was brought up.

Russia looked to the left, and noticed a small blackberry bush. The thorns looked rather nasty, yet the small berries looked delicious. His gaze wandered towards the base, and he saw faded boot prints in the mud and leaves. They looked as if they had been made by military boots… and Germany had been wearing military boots at the meeting. Now, it was definite Germany had passed through. A bloody rag hung onto one of the thorns. And, he had been hurt. Judging by the blood, badly. Either that, or he had been hit where he bled fast… which happened to be his face.

"Germany's been here," Russia quickly said, startling China out of his daydream.

China rubbed his eyes, then asked, "Any food?"

"Blackberries, if we can get them."

China's face lit up as brightly as America's during Christmas. It lifted Russia's mood, seeing China so happy.

He ran over towards Russia, saying, "Do you have a knife?"

Russia felt around for the switchblade he had found. When he did, he dug it out and handed it to China. Immediately, China knelt down and started working on the blackberry bush, hacking away thorns and branches.

"Do we have anything for the blackberries?" China asked, still sawing away at a particularly tough branch.

"Your backpack?" Russia suggested. China paused, threw off his backpack, and continued to chop away, finishing off that one branch and working on another, skinnier one. It took a few minutes for China to get the branches chopped off and the blackberries plucked off, though the perfectly balanced sweet and tart flavor was entirely worth it.

While they munched on blackberries, Russia said, "What do we do about the branches?"

China looked at him, at the branches, back at him, and said, "Can't we leave them? They would be too much to keep up with. Besides, we can always find more, can't we?"

Russia thought for a moment, then nodded. They continued to eat the blackberries in silence. When they had finally eaten a good half of them (there had at least been about two hundred; after fifty, Russia stopped counting), the tips of their fingers were dyed a dark purple. While Russia tried to rub the blackberry stains off, China gingerly put away the blackberries in his pack, then slipped the backpack on and stood up.

"Ready?" he asked, his wok in one hand. Russia nodded, and they set off again. Every now and then, they would stop and rest, drink some water, then continue on.

When the sun was halfway below the horizon, Russia and China took shelter in a forest. It smelled of pine needles, and a river gurgled nearby. While Russia built a lean-to shelter, China scouted out the area, while gathering firewood. He had left his backpack with Russia.

China scurried back after five minutes, saying, "People have been here."

The news didn't surprise Russia. "Where at?" He snapped off a branch from a tree and used it as a type of roof.

"About a few hundred meters away. They've been gone about a day."

Why would they leave? This part confused Russia the most. What had made them leave?

"Well," Russia said, snapping off another leafy branch, "we can look for them in the morning."

China nodded, then started to build a fireplace. That was, until it started raining, first announced by a loud crack of thunder. By that time, Russia had finished the shelter, and both retreated into it. Russia set China's backpack down in the corner, while China sat to the side of the tree. He looked rather mad.

"Just our luck," China muttered. "I gather all of that firewood, and it rains."

Russia held back a laugh as he settled against the tree. "Maybe it will have dried out by morning."

"It better," was all China said, before he curled up on the ground and tried to fall asleep.

Between the rain drumming against the roof, the sharp cracks of lighting and snapping limbs, and his own busy thoughts, Russia couldn't fall asleep.

_Why would they leave?_ It was entirely safe here… then again, something had attacked Germany.

_Who were "they"? _Well, obviously, "they" must have included Germany… wherever there was a Germany, there was an Italy, and Japan was bound to be with them…

_What had happened to Germany?_ The obvious being that he had been attacked. Or maybe a branch hit him. But, if he had been attacked… by what? There were no creatures in the forest, other than a few rabbits and, time to time, a squirrel or stray pet. Nothing that was dangerous. Although, China kept saying he felt as if there had been people staring at him…

_What did happen that day? _This question still perplexed Russia. How did a total of seven billion people disappear within a few seconds? How -

Just then, a loud crack of lightning ripped through the air, making China jump, swear in Chinese, then curl back up and mutter about how well he had been sleeping. After a few minutes, his breathing slowed, and he didn't move.

Russia turned back to his thoughts. How had a feat that large been accomplished in such a short time?

After what felt like an eternity, Russia heard a small snap, and someone roughly chastised the person. China didn't even twitch. Russia slowly got up to investigate the sound.

"Can't you be quieter?" the person snapped in a deep voice. Definitely a man. "You sound like a damn ox!"

"But, Ger—" the other person started, before they were cut off by the first person. Russia had a feeling he knew them, though the driving rain made the voices harder to recognize.

"Just be quiet," the first person muttered.

"You think Japan will forgive us?" the second person quietly asked. They had a lighter voice, but they were also male.

"Well, what can he do?" the first man answered brusquely. "Banish us?"

Russia peered around the doorway, but he could barely see the people. The rain blurred their features. From the rain bouncing off them, Russia could tell the first man was much taller than the second man.

"Germany?" the second man asked shyly. Germany and Italy!

Germany sighed. "Yes?"

"There's someone here."

Russia could barely hear a gun cocking. Where the hell had Germany found a gun? Had he stolen it from Switzerland?

"Don't shoot them!" Italy cried.

"Well, how do we know they are friendly?" Germany hissed.

A long silence washed over, punctuated only by the rain and the cracks of thunder.

"Maybe it's one of the others?" Italy said.

"Again, how do we know?"

"We can ask!"

Germany muttered something, then said, "Go ahead. But if they attack, I don't care what the hell you say, I will fucking shoot them."

"Okay!" Russia heard Italy skipping over to the shelter.

"Hi!" he said.

"Err… hi?" Russia replied nervously. Gratefully, he heard Germany stowing the gun away.

"Germany, it's Russia!" Italy called. Italy turned back to him. "Where've ya been?"

"Looking for you. Why?"

"We've been looking for you!"

"That's nice."

Russia heard China stirring about.

"Who's there?" China mumbled sleepily.

"Germany and Italy," Russia answered.

"Ah!" China sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times before looking at Russia. "Where've they been?"

"Uh…" Russia turned back to Italy. "Where _have_ you been?"

"Oh! Well, we were looking for this apple tree, but we couldn't find it, and then—"

"That's all they need to know," Germany interrupted. The rain slowed down, allowing Russia to see Italy and Germany clearly. Italy had a small cut on his cheek, but other than that, he looked like he always did: cheery. The same could not be said for Germany, however. There were brutal slashes across his chest, and he had some bandages wound around the left half of his face. His clothes were drenched in both water and blood, and watery blood snaked down his arms. Russia could also hear him wheezing, but he didn't know why.

"But, Ger—"

"That's it."

Italy sadly nodded. "Okay…" He turned back to Russia. "Can we stay with you guys?"

"Eh… sure, if—"

"No," Germany harshly said. "We have our own camp, Italy. We can stay there."

"But it's raining!"

Germany sighed. "If you want to stay here, you can. But I'm not."

"Germany, you'll get sick," Russia pointed out. "Just stay here for the night."

Germany glared at him almost hatefully. "You have no business in telling me what to do and what not to."

Ouch. Apparently, Germany was not a happy person. Then again, when was he?

Russia sighed. "Fine then." He stepped off to the side and let Italy in. Italy chose a spot on the right side of the tree; China, having went back to sleep, curled up against the left side. Russia looked back at Germany, but couldn't find him. After a futile search, Russia gave up, and settled against the tree. Shortly after, he fell asleep.

* * *

As soon as they fell asleep, Germany took off, taking anything he might have needed with him. Even China's backpack and Russia's pipe had been stolen; he would need them more than they would. Besides, they would stay in the same place, right?

After his and Italy's run-in with those creatures, Germany felt certain they were tracking him. One attack was probably coincidental. Two was tracking. Three? He didn't want to know how much damage would have been dealt at three. The first one had been light, the second one heavier… three would have killed him. Italy had been too naïve to understand what had happened. He had freaked out, but Germany had managed to convince him it had been setup. Only then did he calm down.

The rain picked up again, driving gusts of watery bullets against anything that stood in its path. The air burned like fire with each breath. Every step felt like Germany was stepping on nails. But, he couldn't stop; if he did, the things had a chance of finding him again. Besides, the rain would wash away the smell. Even the blood that dripped off of Germany and onto the slick grass (which he lost his footing on more than once).

The creatures had been like twisted imaginations, nightmarish fiends. They were very tall, the shortest one standing at two metres, the tallest at about two and a half. Each had bony claws that curved like a cat's, some of them being coated in dried blood. Leering grins and white, soulless eyes made them even scarier. Whip-like tails with black spines presented another weapon. Matted fur made them look like slimmer grizzly bears. Other than that, they looked like horribly twisted humans. They spoke in an odd, screeching language; it sounded akin to nails on a chalkboard or knives on fine china.

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably a mere ten minutes), Germany could hear people talking ahead. He slowed down, until he was more or less walking, so as to not alert them. From their voices, Germany knew they were the same people that had tried to shoot him. A bluish-green fire burned brightly, illuminating the people. Ezexion, the man, kept pacing around the fire, while Alara, the girl, sharpened her sword. Tents made out of some blue fabric sat around the campfire. Germany cautiously drew out his gun (it was a handgun), expecting them to attack him on sight. He could hear them talking about some plans that they had made. They did not seem to notice him.

"So, we know the humans have set up camp in the forest," Ezexion said. How the hell did they know?!

"And?" Alara said, still sharpening her sword. It seemed to be made out of some silvery metal, though it wasn't silver. It had a teal glow to it, which was only pronounced further by the fire.

"Why do we not launch an ambush against them?"

"That is cruel and unfair to them." Alara set down her whetstone and looked directly at Ezexion. "Besides, they have not acted against us."

"And?" Ezexion stopped pacing and locked eyes with Alara. "That does not mean they do not think of doing so!"

Alara sighed. "You need to quit thinking like a military general."

"Perhaps I am one. Then what would you say to that?"

"I would still say you need to stop thinking like one."

"Why should I not?"

"Because you are only a guard." She looked up, and spotted Germany right before he ducked behind a tree.

Germany heard her standing up and bringing her sword to her side.

"What is wrong?" Ezexion asked.

"The man," she answered.

Ezexion laughed. "Which one?"

"The blonde one. He too has a gun."

His laughter stopped abruptly. "Where is he?"

"Behind the tree, but do not harm him."

"And why should we not?"

"He has already been harmed, that is why."

It got incredibly quiet. Even the crickets stopped chirping and the rain stopped drumming. You could have heard a pin drop.

"By whom?" Ezexion finally asked, his voice almost quieter than a whisper.

"It looked as if it was the work of the Renwides," Alara said, sheathing her sword.

Ezexion swore under his breath. "Then they are here and willing to attack."

"We must inform our Lord of this. Ezexion, you do so."

Alara crept towards the tree, while Ezexion contacted the "Lord" and told him the news.

Alara peered around the tree, saying, "What is your name, human?"

Germany hadn't been expecting her, so when she asked him that, it startled him so much he accidentally pulled the trigger. Alara almost screamed and jumped back a few feet, while Ezexion paused his conversation with the "Lord".

After a few moments, she slowly peered back around the tree.

"Could you put your weapon away?" she asked shakily.

When he finally got over the shock, Germany asked, "How do I know you're not going to attack?"

Alara sighed. "Can you not trust me?"

"Not exactly…"

Alara sighed. "Please? I assure you that you can trust us."

Reluctantly, Germany lowered the gun, though he still had his finger on the gun.

Relief seemed to flood Alara's voice. "I am glad that you can trust us."

_Sure, _Germany thought, _and then you'll backstab me like all the others did. I won't fall for your lies or anyone's!_

Out of the corner of his eye, Germany saw Ezexion briskly stride off, still talking to the person.

Alara quickly noticed that Ezexion was leaving. She turned and chased after him, yelling at him in another language.

After a few seconds of complete silence, Germany decided it was a good time to escape, and sprinted off. That was, until he ran into something. The force of the collision knocked Germany off his feet, and he landed on his back, looking like a turtle caught on his back. His head pounding, he pushed himself up, rubbing his head and cursing in German. When his head finally stopped pounding, he looked up to see what he had run into. What he saw stopped his heart. There, standing up and looking down on him, were the two creatures he had seen into. The ones that had tried to kill him. And, by the glint in their eyes, they still wanted to.

**So, this concludes the third chapter of **_**13!**_** So, for the next chapter, I might centre it around America or Japan. I dunno, it's been two chapters since we've seen America, but I left you hanging with Japan… Either way, the chapters about them will come up! Just in a different order. Anyway, that does it for now! **

**P.S.: Four-day updates will probably not come around for a while. I've got school and some homework to deal with.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I have decided upon Japan! Next chapter will be America. Anyway, this chapter happens shortly after Japan fell – well, was pulled – into this swirl-thingy. A whirlpool, to be more accurate. In this story, there shall be many of these portals, and each ones leads to a different world. This one is one of those portals. I think it would be best to read this chapter with the black background, though if it bugs your eyes, it's fine either way. I'm trying to type a serious chapter, but it's hard when your sister's blasting "Gangnam Style".**

"_This world once had colour, but it was all taken away._

_Now, the dead sing of their lost ones,_

_And how cruel it is to be here…"_

Japan woke up uneasily, trying to push himself onto his feet. His strength failed, and he collapsed back onto the floor. It had been at least an hour after he had fallen into this place, and it hadn't been the least bit pleasant. The place had an air of death about it, and everything seemed to be in negatives. The lines of the horizon were a bright white, while the ground was a coal black. Only Japan wasn't in a negative view.

Japan rolled tiredly onto his back and stared up at the sky. It was pitch black, with greyish clouds swirling into one point, where there was an odd green glowing. He still didn't understand where he was, only that he had to find a way back.

Forcing himself onto his feet (which felt like lead weights), he gazed about the place, awed by its… well, by its feeling of despair and utter hopelessness. Black, bare trees stood on the horizon, being outlined in white. Patches of wilted flowers dotted the massive plain. Crows and ravens stood about, cawing at each other and trying to frighten the others off. A type of road ran straight through the ground, leading off into the distance. Crumbling tombstones served as a reminder that something had been here at one point, though years of erosion and aging had worn the letters so much that they were barely readable. Japan had yet to see any type of life in here, other than the birds and the dying plants.

Figuring that he had to come across someone at some point, Japan began following the white road, as it twisted and snaked its way through the dying land. More than once, Japan could've sworn he had passed the same point, but it was hard to tell. It was as if he was walking in a massive circle. The road weaved its way out of rotting forests, dead fields of crops, and vast plains of nothingness. It even led through cemeteries. Japan felt as if he were disturbing the dead as he walked uncomfortably through. He could see flickering forms of humans as he passed through, being stirred from their graves by the unwanted visitor. Japan was relieved when he was clear of the cemetery.

At about an hour of straight walking, when Japan's feet ached and cramped, he saw someone ahead. They almost blended in with the sky, their robes being an inky black. They held a scythe, and the grass around them wilted and shriveled. Over their head was a black hood. Japan felt apprehensive about meeting the person, but it was the only way he could find a way out.

Tentatively, Japan approached the person, feeling that he would regret this move. As he did so, a cold feeling caught in his chest, making each breath of air feel like fire.

"Err… sir?" Japan asked. The person slowly turned to face Japan. The person's skin seemed almost transparent, a blackish colour shining through. Their eyes were a piercing red, and they looked sour. Their face was angular, and their chin formed a v-shape. Their cheekbones were lightly accented, and their nose was slightly pointed.

"What?" the man grumbled. "I have a job to do and –" He paused, squinting at Japan. "You're not a spirit or shade, are you?" He had a heavy French accent, and his voice had a near musical quality to it.

Uncomfortably, Japan answered, "No. Do I look like one?"

The man shrugged. "It gets hard to tell the living from the dead these days. Especially after a thousand years of watching over the cemeteries. Though, the dead are more desperate."

"A thousand years?" asked Japan.

"And a thousand more after that, and even more after that," the man replied sourly. "They try to escape to the living world, but I have to keep them here. If they don't pass through properly, they become ghosts. And that is not a good thing." He squinted at Japan once more. "How did a mortal get into the Netherworld?"

"The Netherworld?"

"It's the place where all the dead go! Mostly Earth and Astriax, though. Or, are you not from there? An Earthling? Or, something else?"

"Eh, yes, an Earthling…"

The man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "If we're not at Astriax anymore, then we've been moved…" The man shook his head. "No, it can't be possible…" He looked back up at Japan. "How'd you get here?"

"There was a gem in a river…"

The man sighed. "Then the prophecy is true."

"What prophecy?" All of this confused Japan. Was this what Germany meant?

The man waved his hand dismissively. "Not my time and place to tell, mortal."

The two stood in silence, not knowing what to say.

Finally, Japan asked, "Is there any way I can get back to the living world…?" He waved his hand, trying to learn the man's name.

The man looked at him quizzically, then seemed to understand. "My name? Ah, err… not sure if I'm allowed to tell… but, you seem to know a lot already. Ankou. Yours?"

"Kiku. May I ask, is there a way to get back to the living world?"

"The Material Realm? Well, if I took you there myself, that would work… but I'd die a slow, painful death. No, I have to take it up with my boss."

"And your boss is…?"

"Well… I have two. I serve under Death, who, in turn, serves under the King." Seeing Japan's confused expression, Ankou added, "He rules over the Netherworld."

"I'm still confused."

Ankou sighed. "Expected you to be. See, when the humans started creating their own gods to explain things, these places were created with the gods. The Sumerians, ancient Egyptians, the Chinese, Romans, Greeks… and there are even more. Some of the most famous examples are Hades and Pluto, Zeus and Jupiter, and so on."

"And where do you come from?" asked Japan.

"Eh, I'm French. Or British, depends on how you look at it. So, do you want to see the King? The more time mortals spend in the Netherworld, the less likely of a chance they'll be seen as a mortal."

"And how long does that take?"

Ankou thought for a moment, then said, "About a hundred seconds." Seeing Japan's paled face, he quickly added, "But, in Netherworld time, that's about a hundred hours."

Japan sighed in relief. He wouldn't be trapped here.

Ankou motioned for Japan to follow, then turned and trotted down the road. Japan rushed to catch up with him.

It was a long time before Japan asked, "What did you mean? If I was a shade or spirit?"

Ankou took a few seconds to remember back to the conversation. "Well, spirits are commonplace here. They're the manifestations of the humans they once resided in. Or simply put, they're the human's energy. Only specific people can see them. Shades, however, belong in the Necroworld. They… well… they aren't too pleasant to be around."

"The Necroworld?"

"Where the most horrible of creatures go. See, nightmares exist in the Netherworld. If that is the case, then the Necroworld holds your worst nightmares times a thousand."

Japan shuddered. The Necroworld sounded horrible. Not exactly Malibu.

"Yeah, most people shirk away from the Necroworld."

"About the shades…"

"Yeah, they aren't too friendly. They try to twist your mind to what they believe."

Another long silence drawled on. The road abruptly changed from paved dirt to a stone pathway.

"Have you ever wanted to leave the Netherworld?" Japan questioned. "See the world?"

"It would be nice," Ankou said, "but it wouldn't be pleasant. The lack of sunlight down here turns everyone photosensitive. Basically, our eyesight is used to the darkness of the Netherworld. If we went to the surface… well, we could be like vampires and burst into flames, or feel as if our eyes were burning while going blind. No, I think I'll stay in the Netherworld."

"What does the King do? What's his name?" Japan asked.

"Well, the King goes by many names, the more common one being Hades. He keeps the Netherworld in check," Ankou answered back.

"And what does Death do, and his name?"

"Death is called… Death. Some of us call him Thanatos, others call him Letus. He basically brings mortals to the Netherworld when their time is up."

"And you?"

"I keep watch over the graveyards. I make sure none of the departed escape back to the Material Realm."

"What happens if they do?"

"Well, it's kinda like what happens in _Tuck Everlasting. _Ever read that book?" Japan shook his head. "Well, in short, no one would die. Which can be a good thing, if you think of the good people. But, mostly, it's a bad thing."

"How so?"

"Put it this way: if no one died, no one would live their life to the fullest extent. They wouldn't yearn for the future, because they know they'll live through it. Besides, there would be no history."

Put that way, Death sounded rather benevolent. Almost… kindhearted.

"I suppose it is good that people die," Japan quietly said.

"It is. Otherwise, you would be stuck with annoying people for all eternity."

Japan smiled, knowing exactly what he was talking about. America.

"But," Ankou added, surprising Japan, "sometimes, Death isn't nice. Especially when it comes to kids. He has a heart and all, but it's his job. Sometimes, kids die young, and they have to be taken. But, they don't live in the Netherworld. They go somewhere else."

"Where?" Japan asked.

Ankou shrugged. "Even I don't know," he admitted, "but it's rumored that they're taken to the Aetherworld."

"Which is…?" Willow trees started to grow alongside the road, the only things that seemed to be thriving down here. They seemed to be doing rather well, being fed by some type of unseen river.

"The Aetherworld is this place that the innocent and heroic go. It's also called the Isle of Elysium."

"Heaven?"

"Yes." Japan could barely hear anything, but he heard some sorrowful singing. It was like a sad lullaby, one that a mother would sing to her lost child. The notes echoed throughout the air, leaving behind a trace of broken innocence in the air.

"Why is there -?"

"Singing? The dead do that sometimes. It's quite beautiful, actually, if you understand them."

Japan strained to hear the voices. They seemed to be singing in Italian and French, though one sounded Russian.

"Do you know what they're saying?" Japan asked.

"No," Ankou replied sadly. "It's a damn shame."

Then, another voice chimed in, singing in Japanese. Finally, a language Japan could understand.

"_In the meadows my child lies, he came here only to die… Under the roses and daffodils he sleeps, never to wake, never his heart to beat…" _the voice sorrowfully sang. It pained Japan to hear this, and he wished he couldn't understand them, to be naïve like Italy was. Happily naïve, unaware of the cruelty of the world…

"It is sad," Ankou quietly said, startling Japan. "Hearing that they've lost everything."

Japan nodded.

"Many of the dead sing, as most know of no other way of communicating than doing so."

_It must be cruel_, Japan thought, _to be condemned to this. No colour to brighten the day, no sunlight for warmth, no way to talk…_

Ankou seemed to read Japan's mind, as he said, "There is sunlight in the Netherworld, and there is colour. Well, was."

"Was?"

"There was once a time when mortals could see colour here. Even animals romped around. Rabbits hopped along and chased each other, deer played tag… it was all well. The fields were green, the wildflowers were blue and purple, the sun was yellow…"

"What happened?" Japan quietly asked.

"One of the Necroworld shades, Arzen, thought that the living didn't deserve colour in the Netherworld. So, just like that, all the colour drained away. The sun never shown, being hidden behind black clouds that never lifted. Only the dead can see the colour, but it pains them to be reminded of the planet they once roamed. In a way, Arzen damned both the living and the dead to an eternity of torture. The only place that has colour is the Palace, and the spirits can never reach the palace."

"That's horrible!" Japan gasped.

"It is," Ankou softly said. "It is."

They continued to walk on in silence, Japan occasionally asking questions about the Netherworld, and Ankou answering them as best as he could.

Finally, the King's Palace came into view. The Palace looked like one of those medieval churches. Gothic spires stretched high into the sky, piercing the bellies of the grey clouds that hung overhead, blocking out the sun. White braziers illuminated parts of the castle, their white fingers clawing at the air. Greyish white stones made up the castle walls, looking as if it was one piece of rock that had been carved out. A massive wall barricaded the castle, while a wrought-iron gate was the only thing that interrupted the wall. Soldiers patrolled the top of the wall, armed with some sort of bow.

Ankou approached the gate, which stretched halfway up the wall. Casts of strange creatures and monsters adorned the gate. Some of the creatures were cute, like the one that resembled a fluff ball, while others were nightmarish, like the one that was an odd combination of dragon, eagle, lion, and bull. A rusted padlock bolted the gate together.

"Do you know how to open it?" Japan asked.

"Well, I don't have a key, if that's what you're asking," Ankou replied.

"Then how do you –"

"Open it? Watch and learn, mortal." Ankou leaned toward the padlock, his face reflected on the worn surface. He whispered something to the padlock, too low for Japan to hear. Instantly, the padlock broke in half, and the sound of gears grinding as they tried to pull back the gates filled the air. The gate dragged against the ground, the shrieking noise sending chills down Japan's spine.

After about a few seconds, the gate was fully open, and Ankou beckoned for Japan to follow him into the castle. The oaken doors slid open as Ankou and Japan neared them, seeming to invite them in. The floor was paved with stone, and their footsteps echoed down the hall.

The Great Hall was magnificently decorated, ranging from tapestries that hung on the wall to the chandeliers that hung from above. Orange flames in braziers and on torches leapt up into the air, sending white sparks cascading around. Japan had never been so happy to see colour. Colours seemed to ooze from every crevice, and they seemed to hold a story of their own. The blues and purples were sorrowful, and they reflected a time of great sorrow that had fallen on the Netherworld. The scarlets, burgundies, and crimsons represented a war. The yellows, greens, and oranges told of a time when the wildflowers swayed in the breeze and the sun shone brightly, kissing every inch of land with light.

The tapestries illustrated the history of the Netherworld as Ankou had told it. The only surprising part was that the last tapestry was pure white. Perhaps the Netherworld anticipated some event that has yet to come.

Japan looked to the other wall. It too was decorated with tapestries, but they were all blank. Again, probably some predicted events. Though, these ones had dates scrawled on the bottoms, like the person knew something was going to happen on that day.

Japan turned his attention to the front. A rug lay on the floor up ahead, its colours faded but still vibrant. Lamps lit with fire stood to either side, casting yellowish light around them. There was a certain elegance about it, but Japan couldn't place what.

"Here's the meeting room," Ankou said, gesturing to the empty space.

"There's nothing here," Japan quietly said.

"Well, everything starts appearing when the people do," Ankou replied.

Just after Ankou finished his sentence, someone appeared with a _crack!_ Japan couldn't see their facial features clearly, as their face was obscured by a dark hood. Like Ankou, they wore dark robes, but the strange part about them was what they carried: a torch. The end of it had been snuffed out recently. Japan could just see a pair of raven black wings behind them.

"Thanatos," Ankou said, nodding in his direction. All casualty Ankou had before disappeared.

Thanatos, previously occupied with something, looked up, and brusquely nodded. His acid green eyes shone through the darkness of his hood.

"Ankou," he stiffly said. He noticed Japan, and asked, "And what mortal do we have here?" Thanatos had a heavy voice, and it had a sharp Greek accent. He sounded rather tired, and his voice had a trace of hoarseness to it.

"He says he is Kiku, and he comes from Earth."

This seemed to alarm Thanatos. "Then we are no longer at Istria, are we?"

"I'm afraid not. Where is the King?"

"Off on some errand. Why?"

"Kiku wishes to return back to Earth, if –"

"I'm afraid he can't."

"Why?" Japan asked.

Ankou looked fiercely at him. "Because the gates have been shut down by Arzen."

"The one that took the sun and colour away?"

Now, Thanatos glared murderously at Ankou, while Ankou averted his attention to the ground. "Must you tell everyone that passes through everything?"

"Well, he –" Ankou started, clearly flustered, but was interrupted by Thanatos.

"He could have been a spy for Arzen!"

Now, it was Ankou's turn to glare at Thanatos. "And you think I cannot tell the difference between a mortal and shade?"

"It seems you are incapable, does it not?"

"And what about _you? _You blame me for everything that ails you, from the dark weather to even your behavior! Perhaps you can actually take the blame for once?"

Thanatos was clearly mad, but just as he was about to say something, another person appeared. They had an elegant robe on that swept around them. Kind, crystal-blue eyes seemed to investigate everything, and they were focused on Japan. A black crown sat atop his head, glinting red jewels that looked like pomegranate seeds resting on the surface of the crown. He also had black, messy hair that almost blended in with the crown. His face was slimmer than Ankou's, and his nose wasn't as pointed. He grasped a staff that was pure black, which had a blood red jewel set into the top.

"And I see you two still argue," the man said lightly, as though this was quite normal.

"He had been antagonizing me –" Death whined like a child.

"And you haven't?" Ankou snapped.

The man sighed, walked over to Japan, and said, "I am terribly sorry you had been left here with those two."

"Well, it's not as bad as what I put up with at work," Japan said, thinking of America, France, and England all managing to bicker at the same time.

"I thought my life was bad," the man said, shaking his head. He held out his hand, and said, "I am Hades. Pleasure to meet you."

"Kiku," Japan said, grasping Hades' hand. "I truly feel sorry for you."

Hades laughed and released Japan's hand. "Ah, I feel worse for you!"

"Who do you think is right?" Ankou snapped, rounding on Hades.

"I wasn't listening," Hades said, then whispering, "Thankfully."

Japan held back a laugh. He could relate to Hades.

Before Ankou and Thanatos could start bickering again, Hades said, "So, why is a mortal here?"

Ankou straightened up and said, "He says he fell into the Netherworld, and wishes to get back to Earth."

"And he told him everything," Thanatos hissed. "We cannot release him!"

"Oh, you think that of everyone that comes through," Hades said dismissively. He turned back to Japan and asked, "What did little Thanatos tell you?"

"I am not little!" Thanatos spat.

"You're shorter than me, so you're little," Hades said. "You're a midget, simply put."

"He said the portals had been shut down…" Japan answered.

"Eh, don't listen to him. He doesn't want anyone to leave, even if their time hasn't come. Which is strange, because he's still antisocial."

"I am not!" Thanatos snapped, glaring hatefully at Hades.

"Oh, you're not? Tell me, when was the last time you talked to me without a prompt to?"

"Plenty of times!"

"And that was, what? A couple thousand years ago? The only time you have talked to me is when you get into a fight with Ankou and you want me to back you up!"

Thanatos muttered something about being hated by everyone, then stalked off.

"He's always in that mood," Hades said. "Don't mind him. So, where were we?"

"Getting me out of here…" Japan replied.

"Ah, yes!" He turned to Ankou. "How long has he been here?"

"A few seconds, sir," Ankou replied, sounding happier since Thanatos left.

"So, he's not completely dead." Hades turned back to Japan. "Well, we can get you out, which is the good news. Bad news is, if you enter another time, Thanatos will give me hell over it, report it to Zeus… which isn't good, and you'll be stuck here."

Japan quietly nodded. He was going to be freed! He could meet up with Germany and Italy again!

"But, don't get too happy," Hades said.

"Why?" Japan asked, confused.

"That may not necessarily be the best choice."

"Why not?"

"Because there are things up in the Material Realm that are not supposed to be there. You sure you want to go back?"

Japan thought it over for a while, then answered, "Yes."

"Alright," Hades said, clapping his hands. "Where were you last?"

"I don't exactly know," Japan admitted.

"Well, what was there?"

"A forest and a river."

"What else? Because you could've been in North America or in Asia, for all I know."

"There was a little gem –"

"See? You could've said that, and I would've known!" Hades started drawing little lines in the air with the tip of his staff, and a picture began to form. First, the trees, then the river, down to the fish… when he was done, there was a full picture of where Japan had been last.

"There ya go!" Hades said happily, sounding like Spain.

Japan took a step forward, then turned back to face Hades. "Thank you, sir."

"Eh, no problem. Hope I don't meet you for a long time!"

And with that, the Netherworld faded, and soon, all that was left was the forest and the river.

**Soo… I was thinking about adding a cliff-hanger thingily at the end, but decided against it. I dunno, just seemed too cliché. Anyway, this is the fourth chapter, hope you liked it, and… well… I'm not going to type in caps, but please comment. Comments make me happy. Even anon ones are welcome here.**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, since the last chapter was about Japan, this one's about America. …That's it, guys. Pretty much it. Still want reviews. Love reviews like dark chocolate bars (aka A LOT). So, this chapter, I will say, takes about three normal days away from Germany's attack by the creatures, just because the timeline can get pretty confusing.**

"'_The forest comes to life at night,' she said._

'_But we are trapped forever here, within the forest._

'_You, however, are trapped within a tale that cannot be unraveled, cannot be undone…'"_

America quietly stumbled through the forest, trying to ignore the childish bickering of England and France. This had been going on for at least a few days, and every time America snapped at them to shut up, they would only bicker louder. Even though it had been only two hours since they had ate, America felt as if his stomach was trying to eat itself. The forest was rather pleasant, even if it was suspiciously quiet (albeit the noise of the fights and insults interrupted the silence). The dappled sunlight illuminated patches of the forest, allowing America to see the moss- and ivy-covered trees and the leaves that littered the floor. Some bushes grew around the forest, and it was an especially welcome sight to see that most of them bore fruit.

"Well, at least I don't try to hump everything in sight!" England snapped at France.

"Oh, but you'll gladly go into a closet to do so!" France retorted.

This comment clearly infuriated England. "At least I don't smell like a damn alcoholic –"

"But you drink like one. What justification are you trying to make, little Brit?"

"You're asking for trouble, wine-guzzling bastard!"

"Then why am I not getting it, _hmm? _Or are you just making empty threats?"

"You little bitch!" England furiously punched France in the gut, and the two started fighting. Again. For the fifth time in about an hour.

America was too exhausted and beat-to-hell to care. He had tried to keep the two from fighting, but all it accomplished was some cuts, bruises, and a possibly lost tooth on his behalf. America just sat against one of the trees and watched them wrestle around, occasionally grabbing each other's hair and pulling them off, only to get tackled again. The fight would soon fizzle out, and, besides, they were immortal. Every now and then, one of them would stagger off from some injury, then charge back and punch the other one, reigniting the fight. Once or twice, America actually saw one of them draw blood.

About ten minutes later, the two finally gave up on trying to kill the other, and sat a good ways apart, spouting insults when their tempers built up too high.

"Can we go now?" America asked.

"Why the hell did you bring him?" England spat, pointing at France, who was too busy combing his hair with his fingers and checking his reflection in a compact mirror to notice. His cheek was purple and blue.

"Me?" France asked, looking up. He looked back down at his reflection and moaned, "God, I look _horrible."_

"Smell like it, too," England grumbled.

"Oh, and like you smell any better!"

"At least I don't –"

"SHUT UP!" America finally snapped. "I've had enough of you two! All you do is bicker and whine like a bunch of kindergarteners! We're supposed to be looking for the others!"

This shut them up rather effectively, and it was a while before England broke the blissful silence with, "I-I guess you're right. I apologize."

"Good," America said, standing up. "We need to look for the others." England and France followed after, England wincing and partially limping, France waddling almost like a penguin. Apparently, England had dealt a crushing blow to France's crotch. France had a black eye and a cut cheek, while England had a broken nose and a missing tooth.

"Idiots," America muttered, shaking his head. They were no more mature around each other than preschoolers. "So, any ideas?"

"That's why we're looking," England muttered, dabbing at his nose with his sleeve, wincing every time.

America glared sideways at England. "Well, it would have been nice if you two wouldn't fight as much, but I don't get my wish."

"The quit wishing and you'll never be disappointed."

America sighed. "Whatevs. We need to find the others." America motioned for the two to follow behind, then walked off, pushing his way through twigs and the occasional spider web.

Between the spontaneous fights England and France participated in, breaks for cramped legs and such, and the need for food (which America felt he was in dire need of), they hadn't cleared the forest when it became too dark to see. The time seemed to be sandwiched between six and seven pm, just after the sun set and before the first stars appear. The only reason besides the light was that England and France were too sore from repeatedly abusing each other.

During the few times the two weren't bickering, America asked, "Want to make camp?"

England only muttered, "Sure," while France slowly nodded, glaring at England out of the corner of his eye.

Just before the tension exploded into a fight, America interrupted with, "England, why don't you sit over there—" he pointed to a tree about fifteen feet away, "and France, you sit over there." America pointed to another tree, spaced a good forty feet away from England's.

"Whatever," England muttered hatefully, already stalking away from the others and to his tree.

"As long as you get me away from him," was France's answer, doing the same as England and walking towards his tree. As soon as the two sat down, though, they started shooting evil glances at each other, occasionally making gestures that America could only assume were the various ways they wanted to murder each other.

America sighed and leaned back against a tree, slowly slipping down the trunk and onto the ground. He peered through his glasses, trying to see if he needed to clean them. He was amazed he could see through them. Just after England and France fell asleep, America's eyes slowly slid shut.

* * *

America did not know why he awoke so early. There had not been any weird noises or anything that could have aroused him from his dreamless sleep. All he knew was that he would be glad later that he had woken up. The moon was high over his head, and the stars bore down like a thousand eyes, like a thousand souls looking down on him. Not a cloud was in sight, and the night was not stirred by any breeze.

America stretched out and yawned, then rubbed his eyes (after he took off his glasses, though). He looked around, feeling as if the answer to his waking would be here somewhere. For a little while, there was not. Then, a tiny blue light, about the size of a firefly, floated out from behind one of the trees and danced about in the air, as if guided by a laser pointer. Soon after, another one, glowing a relaxing purple and about the size of a golf ball, soon joined the blue. Soon, there was a whole party of them, just dancing about rhythmically in the air. The spectacle of colours ranged from fiery red and oranges to wildflower yellows, ocean blues, and grass greens. The strangest part was that they seemed to be _talking_.

"_Come with us, little one…" _one of the lights cooed.

"_You need to know what will befall you…" _another one whispered.

"_Follow us, follow us…" _all the lights seemed to chant.

Almost against his will, America stood up, bewildered by all of this. Was he turning into England? Seeing things that weren't there, hearing voices that never existed… or, was this real? The lights soon started floating away, away from England and France.

Curiosity overriding any reasoning left, America started chasing after the small lights, dodging trees and branches and jogging faster when he lost sight of them. This continued on for about five minutes, and after about three, each step felt like spikes were being driven into America's feet, and his lungs burned for air, but he did not dare to lose sight of the lights. He just felt that if he did, something terrible would happen. Besides, if it was important, he would be the hero!

Just as America was about to quit, the lights abruptly stopped and faded away, seeming to whisper, _"Just ahead, little one… just ahead lies the answer…"_

About a few feet ahead was a clearing, with a small pool that had water lilies floating across its surface. At the edge of the lake stood a woman, who seemed to glow under the moon. Long, white hair reached down to her waist. White robes swept the ground and seemed to sway in the air, despite no breeze. She was holding a scroll in one of her hands, the faded parchment a yellowish-brown in colour.

Sensing that someone stood nearby, she turned towards America, a smile on her face. There was really no way to describe her without it being a huge understatement. Even beautiful was an insult. Angelic, perhaps…

"_Welcome," _she said, in a soothing voice. _"I see the faeries have found you."_ Faeries? Oh, god, he _was _turning into England! How long before he had the huge eyebrows too?

"Faeries?" America nervously laughed, panicking. "I-I don't think those were –"

"_But they were." _She gently laughed, and it sounded like bells ringing. _"Most mortals dismiss them as lights, though, so I shan't blame you for thinking so."_

"Err… thanks?" America really didn't know how to react to this woman. Nor did he know how he was going to be able to explain this to England and France. England might believe him; France, on the other hand… Maybe, he could bring her to them…

Seemingly reading his mind, she said, _"I am afraid I cannot do that, mortal."_

"Why not?" America asked.

"_The forest comes to life at night," _she said, sounding saddened._ "But we are trapped forever here, within the forest. You, however, are trapped within a tale that cannot be unraveled, cannot be undone."_

"Wait, what – what are you talking about?!"

"_I expected you to be confused. All I can say is that you are held within a prophecy, one that can end many ways, depending on what the Warrior does at the end of days."_

"But –"

"_I apologise, but that is all I can say." _She held out the scroll. _"And all I can do is give you the Prophecy of Dark for you to decipher." _She started to fade away, as if she was only dust in the wind.

"But—what about the—?" America stuttered, trying to figure out what he was going to say, but she was no longer there. The scroll lay on the ground, still curled up. Sighing, America walked over and grasped the scroll. It crinkled as he pulled it open, reading the calligraphic writing. It read:

_When the sun is dead,_

_At the end of time._

_When many have bled,_

_After a great many crimes._

_A Warrior rises from the gloom,_

_To challenge the Conqueror of Death._

_Hear the soldiers marching to and fro,_

_At dusk they mount the steeds and go_

_Into the dark of the Netherworld,_

_Into the light of the Aetherworld._

_As time runs short and spry,_

_The decision of life is nigh._

_As Earth collapses into its tomb,_

_One must draw their final breath._

_Well, _America thought, _that doesn't sound pleasant. _From what it said, some guy had to battle another guy, and one of those guys had to die as Earth basically fell apart. Nice. Bitterly, he rolled the scroll back up and trudged back to camp. And… he didn't know where it was.

_Of course this would happen. Naturally, good luck hates me about as much as everyone hates England. _America sighed, trying to find his way back. He looked up to the sky, to see if the stars could lead him back. And, of course, clouds obscured the stars. After a few more fruitless attempts, ones that involved trying to climb the trees (which did not work), yelling for England and France (they did not wake up, nor did they even move), and getting even more lost, America gave up, and slumped against one of the trees. He was still tired, so it did not take long for him to fall into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

"_You bloody idiot!" _was the first thing America heard, right before he was painfully kicked in the shin, causing his eyes to bolt open. The sun was just starting to peer over the horizon. _"Why the hell did you run off? Eh?! Why? Are you trying to get killed? God, I thought that you were smart enough not to pull this shit! Obviously, you aren't!"_

After a few minutes of England venting, occasionally kicking or punching America, he finally calmed down enough so that America could – or at least try to – explain why he disappeared. England's nose did look better, as well as France's cheek and eye, though England still had a missing tooth, proven by his still-missing canine tooth.

"Well, there were these things, and –" America started.

"And what?" England noticed the scroll America had, and asked, "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Ah! This?" America held up the scroll. "Well, there was this—" wait. Did he really want to tell England about the woman?

"Well, what?"

"I found it," America mumbled

England clearly did not believe him, but he let it pass, to America's relief. France, however, didn't.

"So you just find a scroll in a forest, which stretches on for acres, by chance?" France asked suspiciously. "I'd more likely believe Poland was trying to model after Germany."

"Maybe I did," America replied coldly, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants while glaring at France. He picked up the scroll and stuffed it into his pocket.

"I don't believe it."

"Do us all a favor and shut the fuck up," England hissed.

"Make me," France retorted.

"I've half a mind to."

"And what's the other half set towards? Or, do you even have one?"

"It's set towards killing you."

"Should I pretend to be scared?"

"_You little—"_

"Break it up!" America snapped, shoving the two apart before they could start fighting. "It's too early in the morning to start!"

England grumbled something about not being able to "kick anyone's asses now", while France glared at England and tried to rub off some dirt on his face.

"So…" England started, "about that scroll…"

America looked up from his phone. He had been trying to figure out why there had been a bunch of funky symbols on there. "Oh, umm…" he rummaged around in his pocket, then pulled it out after finding it. "Here…" He handed the scroll over to England, who immediately unfurled it and began to read. Almost immediately, a confused look crossed his face, and France started to peer over his shoulder.

"The fuck?" England said. He looked up at America. "What the hell is this?"

"Erm… I dunno," America lied.

"Then throw it away," England muttered, handing the scroll back to America. America just stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Come on," America said, waving the others along, then turning and walking off. He had the sun to his back, and where he had been standing, he had the sun to his left, so he was going west.

Unlike the other days, they actually managed to clear the forest, though America did not want to. He still wanted to see if he had been dreaming, or if that woman was real. And, if she was, he wanted to know if she could still answer his questions. _When was this all going to happen? Why was it happening? Why… why were they, the nations, involved? Why was—_

"Hey!" England snapped, jarring America out of his thinking. "Were you listening?"

"To what?"

England sighed. "There's another fucking forest ahead. Camp in it or what?"

"Sure," America muttered, already reverting back to his thoughts, soon realizing afterwards that he had no idea what he was thinking of. He sighed, and started on another track of thought. _Where were the others? _Remembering back to the first day, more questions were added. _What was going on? Why did the others disappear? What was that blur?_ Why did this all sound so simple, yet it wasn't? There was just too much going on to try to answer all at once. Maybe the answers would come to him. Maybe the answers were provided in the prophecy.

America pulled out the prophecy again. The title of it was clue enough something bad would happen. What prophecy titled _The Prophecy of Dark_ meant a field of happiness and kittens? No, it meant a field of blood and corpses, of pain and misery. Then, the next lines: _When the sun is dead, At the end of time. When many have bled, After a great many crimes. A Warrior rises from the gloom, To challenge the Conqueror of Death. _Well, the first few lines were easy. When the sun never shines, or at doomsday. There was going to be a war. Then, it got tricky. Someone was going to come out of all of this and fight someone that was immortal. Immortal… a god, perhaps? Or even… the nations themselves. But, why would any of them cause this?

Why… America carried on to the next lines: _Hear the soldiers marching to and fro, At dusk they mount the steeds and go Into the dark of the Netherworld, Into the light of the Aetherworld. _Alright, so there was going to be an army that rode on horses… what the fuck was the Netherworld and the Aetherworld? Figuring that there was more going on, he skipped to the last lines. _As time runs short and spry, The decision of life is nigh. As Earth collapses into its tomb, One must draw their final breath. _Well… America had no idea what "spry" meant, but he would bug England about it later. "Nigh" meant "near"; he knew enough words from all the times England had forced him to read the dictionary as some sort of punishment for tearing up his shirts (it worked, but America would always have a dog nearby to blame it on). So, Earth was probably going to crumble away, and someone had to die. Nice little prophecy.

America shoved the prophecy back into his pocket. England and France were fighting again, though it hadn't escalated into a fist one, thankfully. It was about noon, so they were covering a lot of ground. After a few more minutes, they stopped for a break, America complaining about how his stomach hurt so bad, and England snapping at him that if he hadn't been such a pig, he would have lived longer. Finally, after about ten to fifteen minutes of rest, they got back up and kept walking.

It was around nightfall when the trio reached the other forest, all of them complaining that they were hungry. A welcome breeze blew through the forest, cooling everything off. Frogs croaked, a river gurgled, owls hooted, and some crickets were starting to chirp. Fireflies began to dance around.

"There's an apple tree back there," England muttered. "Go get some."

America groaned, "But I have to _walk!_"

"Then you can walk like the rest of us."

America sighed. "Come on, France."

"Why me?" France asked.

"I don't want to come back and find you and England trying to kill each other again."

France muttered something, then reluctantly joined America.

"You want one, England?" America asked.

"Possibly two," England replied, leaning against one of the trees.

"'Kay. Come on, France." America waved France along, then set off, waving at England just before he left.

England quietly sat down, relishing the tranquility. If only the group could be this quiet.

England heard a twig snap nearby. Then, abruptly, Russia came crashing through, his uniform and boots grass-stained and twigs sticking out. He was panting heavily, and dirt smudged his hair and face. China, Japan, and Italy followed after, China peering through the trees before telling the others it was safe.

"Where—could—he—be?" Russia managed to say in between breaths. "We—checked—the—entire—forest."

"Perhaps he moved to a different part, aru," China mused. England quietly stood back up. Germany was missing? It was common for Germany to leave, but only if he told the others where he was going, and he normally never left Italy.

"Or he left us," Japan quietly said.

"Germany!" Italy wailed.

"Italy, calm down," China said, wrapping Italy in a hug to try and calm him. "We'll find him. He may have gotten lost."

"Germany's missing?" England asked. Japan nodded solemnly. Russia was still trying to catch his breath.

"I think he disappeared about three days ago," China said, still hugging Italy, who seemed to be crying. "Japan just came back from… what was it-aru?"

"A man said it was the Netherworld," Japan answered.

Netherworld? That place… "America had a paper that talked about that place."

"Where did he—get it?" Russia asked.

"Never said."

"Where did he go?" China asked.

"Well, there was an apple tree—"

"Err, Japan? Isn't that where Germany and Italy went before you disappeared?"

Japan nodded. "I checked to see if there had been one. From what I could tell, one never existed."

A feeling of dread swept over the party. Then, shakily, China asked, "Russia, can you run over there and bring them back?"

Russia shook his head. "No."

China sighed, then released Italy and passed him onto Japan. "I'll go get them." China also shrugged off his backpack before he darted off, swifter than a cheetah.

"What happened to Italy?" England asked Japan, who was uncomfortably trying to hug Italy.

"Shortly after I left, Germany also did, and Italy was separated from the group somehow." No wonder Italy was so shaken up. Being left all alone in a huge forest… England couldn't blame him.

"Why did Germany leave?"

"We don't know. All we know is what we told each other. They told me that Germany had left when they were all sleeping, and I told them there was another place."

"The Netherworld. And, speaking of that… did any of the people there mention an Aetherworld?"

Japan looked slightly stunned. "Yes. Why?" Before England could answer, Japan figured it out. "America's paper, correct?"

"Yeah… well, what did the man say?"

"He said the Aetherworld was for the innocent and heroic."

"So, the dead?" Soldiers were going to invade the realms of the dead. If England thought what would happen _did _happen… the dead would tear Earth apart. They, the nations, would be gone.

**So, conclusion of chapter five! So, now, you get what the whole prophecy thing is. Anyway, I'm going to write the next chapter about Germany****. So, as always, review, comment, favourite/follow, lurk in cyberspace… but, I'd prefer you to review and/or favourite/follow. I would like that a lot.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Eternalenergy: Well, this chapter will fulfill your wishes. Hopefully, France and England don't try to kill each other. Poor America.**

**Lolz: Erm… a hospital? Where else would he go after being mauled by creepy things?**

**Starship Artisan: Well, thank you! I do try hard to keep the characters as far away from OOCness as possible, and it's great knowing that I'm doing a good job at it (because, as an author, I can be blind to some things). I also try to describe the people and what-not as much as possible. The story was going to be a survival thing, but I changed it because a whole different idea came to mind, and, of course, it sounded better. **

**Anyway, guys, if you don't want to read about Germany… well, tough nubs. This chapter is **_**crucial**_** to the story (and "crucial" isn't in italics for nothing). So, apparently, you guys can make it to where a hundred and something more people see the story in a day. That's… impressive, to say the least. Maybe more reviews, please? Reviews… I like them. (I publish the chapters as soon as I complete them, so that's why the chapters have been coming in a tad fast. And, I like the fact that the review count is exceeding the chapter count. Still, guys, I go to school, and I have homework, like the rest of the students out there.)**

_"Maybe… maybe he is the one… the savior, the light… our life…"_

Germany awoke to the pungent smell of antiseptics, rubbing alcohol, and other smells that might linger in a hospital (not particularly pleasant ones, unfortunately). The entire room was bleached white; the tiles were white, the curtains were white, the bedspread was white… Germany was pretty sure whatever he was wearing was also white (this deeply bothered him; an invasion of personal space!). Poland would have been driven to madness with this room, and he would have immediately splattered it with paint, saying that it was "too drab" and that it needed "more pizzazz!" If he could have, he probably would have painted Germany ("It'll be fun!" promised Poland one time, as he used Germany as a test subject for his painting and make-up applying skills. It was not any remote form of fun) and sprayed the room with glitter. The only thing that separated Germany's room from the rest of the hall was a plain, white curtain.

A heart monitor beeped, the electronic tone blending in with the whirring of some machine in the other room… if there was one. The white room made Germany feel as if he was in some sort of mental hospital, minus the not-so-sane people and the straightjacket that he would have been wearing had this assumption been true. It, in all honesty, made him feel trapped, and after the other events, he did not like closed spaces as much as open spaces (which he harbored a deep hatred for, though it was unknown whether it was anger or fear). He could feel some sort of scratchy fabric rubbing against his cheek and forehead, and it took a second for him to realize it was a bandage. Right. His eye. He wondered what had happened after the… incident (Germany did not like remembering that during the few times he was conscious, most of them marked with dull, aching pain that he had no explanation to).

Between the IV stuck into his arm (why the hell is it there? Germany thought, as the somewhat clear liquid dripped slowly), him not moving at all in… how long had it been? A day? A week?—and the fact that his muscles were knotted up, Germany could barely move, much less get out of here, as he had been hoping to do. The (possibly fluorescent) lights glared overhead.

Germany heard the click of some shoes down the hall, but it took what felt like an eternity for them (but was only a span of just over fifteen seconds; it is amazing what extreme boredom can do to time) to finally stop just in front of the door to Germany's room. He could hear the scratching sound of pen on paper, as the person jotted down words onto what sounded like a clipboard (due to the occasional wooden clicking). Then, after a short while, another person entered the hall, and, like the other person, stopped just in front of his room.

Whatever language the people were speaking (it sounded like a male, who had a husky voice, and a female, who had a heavy tone), it wasn't one Germany ever heard. It sounded like German, though it would also sound French, Chinese, Arabic, and a mixture of other languages. He did, however, pick up some numbers and words, like "one hundred six", "poisoned", "down to seventy", and other phrases that didn't sound too well. At least, he didn't know if it meant another thing in whatever warped language they were speaking. Maybe the words actually meant something better. Still, Germany did not like how it sounded.

Finally, one of the people poked their heads through the curtain. They actually looked pretty normal, at least in Germany's eyes; the only thing that set him apart was the sunset-orange eyes that darted every which where. He had neatly combed black hair that was tidily swept back (it wasn't quite slicked back, like Germany's, but it looked like it) from his face. Black sideburns emphasized his cheekbones, making the man look rather regal, like a king. Pale, ecru skin just made his black hair look even darker. His face looked as if it were chiseled by an expert sculptor; every detail complimented his face. He seemed to be in some sort of silky, metallic clothing, his shirt being a pale primrose and his pants being a lavender-black colour.

Despite how he looked, he was in no way arrogant or brash (like some people Germany knew…). He was, actually, rather friendly and sociable, proven by calling Germany a "very welcome guest in my home".

"You're not the talking type, are you?" the man asked, after Germany refused to respond. "Like the tall, stony, intimidating type?"

"You could put it like that," Germany muttered, not in the mood for talking.

"So, you don't like talking to anyone?"

"Not at this moment."

"You're not in the mood for talking?"

Germany merely answered his question with silence.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"That would be wise." Germany wished the man would leave so he could focus on a way out. Even if it did not sound like the best thing to do, he needed to know if Italy was okay. Besides, Japan could be a tad harsh on Italy somedays.

"You're not the happiest person, are you?"

Germany sighed. "How much longer are you going to stand there?"

"As long as you stay in bed, lazy," the man answered truthfully.

"You're going to be waiting a long time, then."

"Then I'll wait."

After a long time of bickering back and forth, the man finally gave up, never quite persuading Germany to move.

With a sigh, the man said, "Fine. You win. Just don't be complaining when you're bored." With that, he pulled back the curtain, cast a last glance at Germany (who returned the glance with a cold glare), then left, pulling the curtain shut behind him. He said something to the nurse, then he set off down the hall, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until they stopped. After a few more minutes, the nurse set off, the clicking of her shoes echoing down the halls.

So, back to the escape plan Germany had_. The nurse comes every thirty minutes from my observations, _Germany thought._ The guards patrol the halls starting at seven o'clock (it is about six thirty at the moment, _Germany added)_ judging from the sun, and they come back every forty five minutes. While one guard is off, another one is patrolling the outside corridors that lie outwards of the hall. If I can time this perfectly, I should not run into any of the guards in this section of… whatever the hell this building is._

Then came the fact that other guards would be out, patrolling the halls at every time. What would he do then? Hide in the corners and surprise them? Try to pass off as a disoriented civilian? Attack them and use their armor as disguise? After much debate, Germany grudgingly chose to improvise as he went. No structure whatsoever, which really irritated Germany.

After all voices and outside light faded away, Germany quietly slipped out of bed. It took a long time to stretch and unknot his muscles, but the effort seemed well worth it. His previous guess at the colour of his clothes had been correct; they were as white as the room. And, he also had the surprise of discovering he looked like a modern day mummy, what with the bandages that wrapped every part of his body except his face and neck. Next came the matter of the IV; if there was an actual purpose to it, Germany could not see one, and if it did not serve a purpose, it had no reason to be stuck painfully in the crook of his arm. So, with a tug, Germany pulled the small needle out of his arm, the red blood slowly dribbling out and staining the white bandages. He really hoped this was not something for the poison the nurse mentioned; it would not be the best thing for Germany to abruptly collapse while running away from guards that could be hell-bent on killing him. Even if that was the case, he couldn't die from something as simple as this.

Quietly pulling back the curtain and peering around to make sure no one was here, Germany silently left the room and began to navigate the hall. The floor was a smooth, continuous tile, and it felt warm. Still, this was no time to be marveling at the heated floor. When he finally escaped the hospital, his assumption that guards would be here was true. Every time he saw a shape, or even a flicker of a flame, he would hide behind or in whatever was around, whether it was thick curtains or supply closets.

This continued on for some time, ducking, hiding, and occasionally fleeing, until, after about an hour, Germany stumbled across a door. It wasn't like the other plain, wooden doors that led to closets and sub-rooms; this one was ebony, and it was gilded with gold and silver leaf, the spectacular floral designs shining in the light. Tentatively, Germany twisted the golden knob and pushed the door open, it creaking and moaning. What he saw in the room took his breath away.

Germany had thought the Smithsonian was impressive, what with its millions of collections; this one made the Smithsonian seem almost puny. Torch-lit halls stretched into black oblivion, the walls were lined with doors and paintings and other exhibits, stained glass ceilings peered down from the ceiling (which seemed light years away), and the floor was blanketed with a rich, oriental rug. Brass plaques hung above each door, indicating the contents of the room. As he walked down the hall, he read each of the plaques, wondering if any of the would be helpful. Finally, he came across one room, with a plaque above it that sounded rather interesting. The first line of it was definitely not English; he was fairly certain _Laiquendes ernd Erfections Kollektiones _was not any language. The line below it was, thankfully. It read _Legendaries and Artifacts Collection. _Germany pushed the door open, and was again greeted with a room that seemed too spectacular to be real. It looked near identical to the hallway, though there were no additional doors and no paintings were in there. Glass cases held suits of armor and other mystical things. At the end was a silvery mirror, the frame being golden oak.

Feeling fairly safe in this room and curious, Germany walked around, investigating each glass case and the plaques that told the story behind each of the objects. One sword, which gave off an eerie purplish glow, was said to be _Illaquar's Querta. _So, basically, Illaquar's Sword. It was a sword that was said to be cursed, but it could only be handled by the _Illaquar_, or the Chosen One. Next, there was a pair of gloves, a beautiful silver in colour, that were also said to only be handled by the Illaquar. And, if they were not the Illaquar… severe burns, amputations of limbs, and even death were common effects… just from putting the gloves on. Being far too curious for his liking, Germany quietly stole the gloves out of the case. He never intended to put them on, just to threaten the others if they would not let him go.

Holding the gloves in one hand, Germany set off towards the mirror. It seemed like an eternity when he finally reached the mirror. The mirror, titled _Enshara's Glerique, _had a much more sinister story; it was said to show a person whatever they desired, and if they came through, they supposedly got what they wanted. However, they got exactly what they hated and were afraid of the most (ex. If a person wished for a perfect world, when they walked through, they would be greeted with a dysfunctional and chaotic world). Right next to it sat a small glass tube, with the title of _Enshara's Glyseraph. _The back story behind the little vial was this: a long time ago, a wizard by the name of Phsora (Feh-soor-ah) had enchanted the vial to grant wishes to those that needed it most. However, the vial had been changed by another wizard, Arzen, to where it would grant three wishes, and the results would not be necessarily good (ex. If someone wanted money, a close member of their family would die, and they would leave the money behind). It had then been left to a queen named Enshara. Since then, the two items have been kept in this room, away from the prying hands of humans and—what did it say?—Janxes alike.

_Maybe America would know about these, _Germany thought. _He has an interest in aliens. Perhaps he has heard of this?_

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Germany whirled around to face the people. In marched a force of about twenty heavily-armored men, each with guns clanging at their sides and swords drawn. Leading them was the same man (he was wearing a set of lightly coloured armor, also with a gun) that had insisted Germany get out of bed. In this situation, America would sum it up with one word: _fucked._

"So," he said, "our guest decided to leave, hmm? Not exactly wise on your part, you know why? It is not wise to disobey the Janxe **(Jahnk-CEE)**. And this single act is punishable by death."

Just for trying to leave? They must like killing people.

The man noticed the gloves Germany was holding, and he instantly paled. "Put those back."

"These?" Germany held up the silken gloves. "And why should I?"

"Do you have any idea what those can do, human?!"

"Kill people. _Just like you."_

The man nervously laughed. "Ha, well, you would need—"

"Or do you want to lose your valuable 'guest'?" Germany asked. The room became silent rather quickly.

"Do you want to die?" the man weakly asked.

"Do you want me to die?"

"No, I don't—"

"Then let me go."

"We can't—"

"Why not?"

"Because it is the Lord's orders—"

"And how can I believe you?"

The man looked near murderous. "You're talking to him," he growled lowly.

(Insert America saying "You fucked up, Germany.") "You want your guest dead?"

"I'm pondering whether I should send you to the guillotine or the gallows," the Lord said coldly.

"Why?"

"Because you are a pain, and you would serve better being dead!"

"Why didn't you say so? Because, then, I would've known to put on the gloves, like this." Germany tugged the glove over his hand. Oh, this was _too_ much fun, antagonizing the guy.

"No, don't! Take it off! Take it off now!" The man sounded extremely alarmed.

"Why?" Germany asked, pulling the glove over his other hand. "Because you want to kill your guest?"

"Give back the gloves or I will kill you."

"Why? I'm going to die anyway; why would I want to provide you the honor of killing me?"

The man turned and started snapping at one of the soldiers, then the soldier hurried off.

The Lord turned back to Germany. "If you take off the gloves now, I won't kill you."

"No."

"Why not?!"

"You said you weren't going to kill me. You didn't say you weren't going to lock me up."

"I'm trying to—"

"Lock me up in jail. I see what you're trying."

"It's been one minute, sir," one of the soldiers said.

The Lord was on the edge of desperation. "If you don't take the gloves off now, you will die!"

Germany quietly pulled back the collar of the gloves. His hand looked normal. "I don't think so."

"Ten seconds," the soldier said, sounding a lot more urgent.

The Lord sighed, the said "Back up," (Germany assumed he was saying this) and herded everyone back. Now, there was a good thirty meters (about ninety-eight feet and a half) separating Germany and the other guys, the Janxes. There was a strange tension in the air, as if the others were waiting for something to happen. The Lord had his back to him, and Germany could see that all the soldiers had their eyes shut.

Ten seconds ticked by without incident. Then, another five… ten… fifteen… soon, an entire minute had ticked past, without anything special. After about thirty more seconds, the Lord turned to face Germany, awe and shock evident on his face.

"How... how…?" was all the Lord could manage to say. Then, the guards started looking up, one by one, until all the guards' gaze was set on Germany.

"Have the enchantments been broken?" one guard whispered.

"Impossible!" another one hissed. "They were set by the great Phsora!"

"Then how did he live?" another one chirped.

"Perhaps…" one started, his voice trailing off. His eyes grew wide, and Germany barely heard his say, "Perhaps he is the one."

"How could a human be it?" one guard spat. "It clearly said—"

"The prophecy didn't say anything specific. At least, the Prophecy of Dark didn't."

"But the Prophecy of Light did," another guard quietly said. "And it said the one was of light and sky." He looked at Germany for a brief second, then turned back to the Lord. "His hair is of light…"

"…And his eyes are of sky," another faintly finished. Every wide-eyed gaze was set upon him, as if he were some kind of god. Then, in perfect unison, they kneeled, even the Lord doing so. Wait, was this…?

"_The Illaquar has come! The Salvation of our planet, our beloved Astriax, has come at last!"_

**Yes, I actually put this in here. I told you guys this would be absolutely crucial. The Prophecy of Light might come up in the next chapter, or the next one featuring Germany. So, I'll let you guys comment, favourite, follow, lurk around and read other stories. Also, in the description of the Lord, "ecru" is a light brown, like unbleached linen.**

**And, yes, other languages that do not exist on Earth are spoken in this. Not often, though.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Eheh… so, you guys are doing pretty well with amazing me every time I check the story. Yeah, I'm pretty psyched. Though, I still like reviews. And favourites. And follows.**

**Starship Artisan: Yeah, I get where you're coming from. And, yes, I agree with you (*le gasp!*). The "ecru" definition probably did mess it up a little, but I put it in there so people could get a better glimpse at what the Lord looked like. I didn't want people to keep thinking that "ecru" was some sort of bird (which I honestly thought it was; ecru sounded like emu) or some freaky combination of purple, orange, and green. Blech.**

**FullmetalWizard1995: No, Germany didn't die. Also, in answer to both you and Starship Artisan, the gloves would actually have "killed" him. Not permanently, but just for an hour (or something like that). (And, yes, if that **_**had **_**happened… well, I didn't plan that far, but it probably would've been messy. Or extremely painful.)**

**EternalEnergy: Of course Prussia would say that. I'd bet he'd also say he was the master of the art of badassery, or something along those lines. Definitely wasn't the best chapter, but it would help create this tension of, "Well, what shall happen to Germany?"**

**Spiritwolfe123: I honestly was not thinking about that when I first typed the chapter. I knew that I wanted them to be like a dysfunctional family, but I never quite associated them with America, England, and France (also, Ankou was the Graveyard Watcher, or even Death, in some cases. Some say he was the first kid of Adam and Eve, others say he was the first to die that year, and others say he was once a prince that lost a bet to Death). Sadly, I have never read **_**Tuck Everlasting, **_**although I've heard it's a good book. **

_"So... three are not going to come out alive?"_

_"Correct. Three will perish."_

_Germany hoped he was not among the three lost._

Even after hours of explanation, hours of presenting evidence, and vehemently claiming it was true, Germany still could not believe them. He would not believe them. _It was all a dream_, he would tell himself. _Sooner or later, I'll be back at work with the others…_ Except, he never did wake up, nor did he miraculously end up in his room with Prussia snapping at him, telling him he forgot to set his alarm. He was still in the hospital (they had led him back here for some reason). He was still surrounded by the guards. He still had to talk to the king of them all, Raiden. He still looked like a mummy, except the bandages had flecks and splotches of blood on them. And, worst of it all, he still had the gloves on.

"Trust me on this!" Raiden said, frustrated beyond his wit's end.

Germany just ignored him, quietly sitting on the edge of the bed. Either that, or he was still trying to believe that he was dreaming. Was he? Was anything even real? Was _he _real? Were the people real? Was this place—

_Quit being philosophical! _He snapped at himself. _This is no time to be pondering the world!_

Still, it was an interesting topic. Was any of this real? Was the man named Raiden real, or was he an illusion? Germany shook his head, trying to clarify it all. Why, _why, _was an answer to a simple question so complicated?

"You still don't agree?" Raiden asked. Before Germany could think of an answer, Raiden sighed, said, "Let him think it over," motioned for the guards to follow, then he left, making sure the last guard pulled the curtain closed.

Germany shook his head again. It couldn't be real, it just couldn't be. He didn't want it to be real. He didn't want the bandages to be real, the blood to be real, the gloves to be real… he didn't want anything to be real.

_But it has to be, _a voice nagged. _Those things… remember, idiot? Your eye? The stitches?_

No matter how many times he tried to forget, it still stayed in his head like a fresh scar. The things… the claws… the agonizing pain… all of the blood…

_It's real. Everything's real._ The truth. A painful one, at least. A horrifying one, at most. So, the… It… It was real. And… he had no idea what he was supposed to do. They said, the people said, that he was supposed to be some sort of hero. They had to be wrong. They just couldn't be right.

_You don't want them to be right. It doesn't mean they're not right. _Well, of course he didn't want them to be right! Who would? No one! Except, maybe America. But still, it was a given! No one wanted to be this hero that could either doom the earth or die!

This went on for quite a while, arguing with himself about whether this was real. When it was about nine, the lights slowly dimmed outside in the hall, until it was pitch black (at about nine o'five). Not a sound dared to echo, not even a breath or a mouse skittering across the floor. Uneasily curling up on the bed, Germany tried to sleep, which turned out to be much harder than previously thought.

* * *

"Wake up," a man gruffly said. "Did you even sleep?"

"No," Germany answered truthfully, blinking his eyes. Someone, at some point in the night, had taken off the bandages. Even though it felt better, it was not any better. In fact, everything seemed slightly grayer.

"Boss isn't going to like this," the man muttered. "Well, hurry up. We've got a meeting for you."

This interested Germany, and he rolled out of bed and onto his feet. What did they want?

"At least you look presentable," the man muttered, before tuning and setting off, jerking the curtain open and striding out.

_Well, _Germany thought, straightening out the rumpled covers on his bed, _someone isn't in a good mood._

As soon as he finished making the bed, he stepped out of his room, making sure to slide the curtain back shut. He then tried to figure out which way the man had went. It was an impossible task, and Germany ended up simply tracking down one of the guards and asking him.

"Excuse me," he said unsurely, "but—"

"Meeting?" the guard interrupted.

"…Yes."

"Follow after," the guard said, then trotted off down some unfamiliar corridor (which was saying something; Germany had been sure he had walked all over the place while trying to escape).

They walked in silence for some time, then Germany asked, "About the king…"

"Raiden? He's a quiet guy. Never quite told us anything about himself. Well, about his personal life. There's only so much you can keep quiet before it leaks out."

"How come you're staying at earth?"

"Well, the Renwides drove us out, and now that they see we're doing well, they want to have Earth to themselves."

"What had happened?"

"Between us and the Renwides? Well, they used to be—" he stopped, then said, "I'm not allowed to tell."

More silence. Just as Germany was about to ask something else, the guard stopped in front of a metal door and said, "We're here."

"How come there's… never mind."

"Security and protection issues." The guard reached out, twisted the metal handle, and pulled the door open, ushering Germany in.

Apparently, they had started the meeting without him, as they were already arguing amongst each other. The room was circular, and one red chair rose above the other rows of black ones. A chandelier hung overhead, the bluish crystals hanging down like teardrops. The room was a plain white, while stone tables divided one row from another. Twenty or so people were in here, each arguing with at least another person; he could've sworn he saw Alara and Ezexion. However, as soon as they realized Germany was here, everyone fell silent rather quickly. They bowed out of respect, then took their seats, the red chair left empty.

Before long, Raiden came into the room, purple and gold robes broadcasting his royalty. He briefly nodded at Germany, then quietly walked up to the red chair and, as regally as possible, sat down in it, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap.

"This meeting has converged to inform the Illaquar of his duties," Raiden formally said. "As stated before, this meeting shall focus on the main prophecies by which the Illaquar is depicted in, the Prophecy of Light and the Prophecy of Dark."

"Those ones?" a man asked. "The… Forbidden Ones?"

"Yes. Those exact ones. Now, what were we discussing before?" Raiden asked.

A young woman chirped, "We had been informed that there were more humans in the forest. They all seemed to have originated from the same area as he," she gestured to Germany, "and that they had been looking for the Illaquar."

"And what do these humans look like?"

"One of them has black hair in a ponytail, and another one has black hair cut straight," China and Japan! "The other has silver hair and violet eyes," Russia! "Yet another has blonde hair and green eyes," England! "Two others also have blonde hair, except one has a strange piece of hair and glasses and the other only has wavy hair." America and France! "And another has brown hair and a strange curl." Italy! They were all alive!

"And how are these humans faring?"

"They have yet to encounter the Renwides. However, they do not seem to be doing as well as we had hoped them to be."

Germany's heart sank. Then again, what had he expected? They were stuck in a forest, and, unless they were near the river, they didn't have much of a chance. Sure, they were nations and technically immortal, but it would be rather unfortunate if the…

Raiden noticed Germany's expression, and said, "Do not worry. They are unharmed, and we plan on bringing them in as soon as possible."

This was slightly comforting. Everything could change if the things found them.

"Meeting done?" a man tiredly asked.

"Meeting done for now," Raiden confirmed, after a moment's pondering. "Remember, we convene again at half past noon." The sound of scraping chairs filled the room, as the patrons bustled out of the room, some smiling and nodding at Germany, others bowing in respect before setting off. After a few seconds of hurried bustling, the room was emptied of all people, except for Raiden.

"I would suggest you follow me," Raiden said, already starting for the door.

"Prophecies?" Germany asked, as Raiden pushed open the door.

"Yes, on our planet, we have many," Raiden almost chirped, beckoning for Germany to follow, then setting off down some long corridor, one that would be typical of horror games, the types that were unassuming, yet they held some unknown horror that wanted to rip your throat out. However, it was far from grimy; in fact, it was spotlessly clean.

"Then, why are these called the Forbidden Ones?"

"We were forbidden to talk about them until we were sure the Illaquar came."

"Why?"

"It is a very long story. And, I've been meaning to ask… what is your name?"

It took a second to remember that the people had never asked for his name out of the days he had spent here. "Ludwig."

"Strange name," Raiden remarked.

"Yours is no stranger."

"Touché. So, do you know those people well?"

What people? The people in the council room? What—Ah! The others! "I work with them (unfortunately). Some are well-behaved, while others have yet to catch up." The flooring abruptly changed from a white tiling to smooth slate, and the corridor started to dim. The walls turned greyish in colour, and the electrical lights were exchanged for lit torches that cast a yellowish glow about.

"Er, are you sure we're—"

"Going the correct way? Yes. We did this so the documents would not suffer any more damage. We have had them restored, but we wish to not do so in the near future."

_Strange, _Germany thought. _Then again, not much different. _

After about a minute of walking, the corridor ended at a door. It seemed to be made of metal, though, from its bluish-purple shine, it was not any type from Earth. It had an odd-shaped keyhole in it, and no doorknob was visible. It was the second metal door Germany had seen in this entire place. Perhaps metal was rare on their planet?

"Now, I would advise you to not touch the tablets in here," Raiden said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an intricate key. Instead of the regular jagged and block teeth, the teeth had been replaced with pyramids and neon blue etchings. Quietly, he inserted the key into the keyhole, and twisted it. Plates on the door slid back to reveal a handle, a sort of replacement doorknob. He pulled the key back out and stowed it away, then grasped the handle and pushed the door open. Apparently, the documents were extremely important or prized by the—who were they called again?—the Janxes.

Cool, musty air filtered out from the room. It, itself, was not very spectacular; grey stone-walled, a singular lantern, and glass cases with aged documents within them. The lantern had been placed so that it illuminated two documents which sat side-by-side.

"It doesn't seem great," Raiden said, stepping in, "but, it hold far more than what the eye sees."

"How so?" Germany asked, tentatively stepping into the room as well. The cool air felt nice, but he did not appreciate the musty smell. Then again, it smelled like old book pages. He thought he saw faint, nearly invisible lines skittering across the surface of the stone.

"There are lines in here that many, if not all, cannot see. They are here to prevent the documents being stolen." He gestured to the two glass cases, and said, "Over here."

Germany walked over to where Raiden stood, looking curiously at the documents. They looked rather unimportant, like a page out of a diary or journal. The glass case they were held in had a metal clip on it so that it could be opened.

"The first one on the left is the Prophecy of Light, while the second one on the right is the Prophecy of Dark," Raiden said, flipping the clip on the first one so the lid popped up slightly. "I suggest we start with the first one." Carefully, he flipped back the lid and picked the aging document up, setting it on top of the case of the second. The paper had water damage, and some unidentifiable black spots that Germany only knew as mold spots. Either that, or ink blotches. The document was a yellowish-tan colour, and the ink on it had faded from a black to a brown colour. Despite the fact that the words were faded, it was easy to read the document. It read:

_On a day when the light does not shine,_

_When the hunters rule over and the lost doth cry._

_On a distant land, a hero does rise,_

_To challenge the Lord of All, the Lord of Time._

_One of his kind stand him by,_

_Two traitors, whose lies silently cry,_

_Three others of a motley crew,_

_Two others of unfortunate brew._

_One of nomadic descent and the other of royal descent,_

_Two others of young and old assent._

_A battle and traitors unknown lie ahead,_

_And ten are left when we count up the dead._

_The last to depart shall change them all,_

_To follow a path of honor or one of appall._

_To die a worthy death or one of lost cause,_

_To relive life or to be lost in Death's jaws._

"So, tell me," Raiden said, "what do you think the first stanza means?"

"Is it about your planet?" Germany asked.

"Yes. It tells us of a time when the sun doesn't shine, and when the Renwides rule over. This has already happened, sadly. Now, the second stanza?"

"Er… someone on Earth is going to challenge the Lord of Time."

"You, specifically. Third stanza?"

"There's going to be someone like me, and then two traitors… that aren't known?"

Raiden nodded. "Yes. Fourth stanza, then?"

"Er, well… three others of a mixed crew, and two others that aren't good?"

"It could mean that, or it could mean ones that have had unfortunate pasts."

The latter made sense. "Alright, so a mixed crew of three and two others that have had a bad past. Correct?"

"I think so. Fifth stanza?"

"There's going to be four others. One that's a nomad, and the other that's of royalty. The other two… well, one is young and the other is old."

"Sixth?"

"There's going to be a battle and two traitors, and only ten of us will be left."

"Seventh and eighth?"

"The last that dies will change the rest of the group, either in a noble way or a dishonorable one. And, when they do die, they can die a hero or a coward… and, dependent on what they chose, they can come back or be lost forever?"

"Confusing, but that's the general idea."

"So… someone might not come back? Ever?"

"Correct. The second prophecy, now." Raiden replaced the first prophecy into its case, popped the case of the second, and lifted the second document out. It was much shorter than the first, thankfully. This one seemed slightly newer, though it was still faded. This one read:

_When the sun is dead,_

_At the end of time._

_When many have bled,_

_After a great many crimes._

_A Warrior rises from the gloom,_

_To challenge the Conqueror of Death._

_Hear the soldiers marching to and fro,_

_At dusk they mount the steeds and go_

_Into the dark of the Netherworld,_

_Into the light of the Aetherworld._

_As time runs short and spry,_

_The decision of life is nigh._

_As Earth collapses into its tomb,_

_One must draw their final breath._

"This one merely says what will happen on a general scale, while the other stated the specifics," Raiden said, as Germany read the document.

"So," Germany asked, after he finished reading, "in this one, I'm assuming the Lord of Time and the Conqueror of Death are the same?"

"Correct. Now, I'm sure you understand this one, but, if you want to, we can review it."

"No, I don't think we need to."

Raiden nodded. "When you're done, put the document back in the case and lock it." With that, Raiden left, shutting the door with a dull _thunk!_

So, the group started with thirteen people. And, according to America, thirteen was unlucky. Three were going to die out of the ten. And Germany had a bad feeling he would be amongst them.

* * *

_A boom. Then, another one. Suddenly, the air was ripped apart by the sound of exploding gunpowder, as bullets shot through the jungle leaves. A man fell beside of him, his armor starting to be stained with blood._

_Even the best fall, he told himself, as he aimed at one of the enemy's heads and pulled the trigger. A crack, and the man fell, a red crater bored into his head. Blood ran down the white walls that separated him and his army from the enemy. The same people that attacked his home, had killed his family…_

_But, he was used to this. The gun cracks, the falling people, the blood…_

_Despite this, he could never get used to the smell. The sickly sweet and putrid smell, the one of blood and corpses…_

_He knew this smell since he was little. When he still had his family. When he didn't know the horrors of his planet Istria, his only home. When the only forces were the Renwides that romped about, toting guns and some sort of sword._

_It had been in the fields. The black swarms of flies, the vicious buzzing, as they detected something._

"_Go back inside," his mother said, ushering him inside. Trying to hide the fact that someone was in the fields. That they didn't breathe. That there were more of them, armies of them, under the soil. They could only grin in the face of death. They spoke a thousand words, yet no voice came from them. They were once healthy, but they were only bones and tattered clothing and armor now. Their skeletons still served as a reminder that the Renwides had won the war._

**Alright, so this concludes the seventh chapter! And, yes, if you've ever read **_**Trouble, **_**then that's where the last part came from. And, the Prophecy of Light's lines are loosely based off the ones in **_**Gregor the Overlander**_** (it's written by Suzanne Collins, the same person that wrote **_**The Hunger Games. **_**Very good book, actually.) So, as always, review, favourite, follow, lurk about in cyberspace, or even hysterically cry at the computer when your favourite character dies, but, remember to return back to _13!_ You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming, bros.****  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright, so eighth chapter! So, sorry I haven't been able to update lately. Binomials, polynomials, quadratics and exponential stuff, and an ELA project have kept me away from the computer. Hopefully, this chapter will make up for it.**

**EternalEnergy: Well, no promises, even though Germany is my favourite character (our personalities… we're near same). And, besides, which German? You don't care much for Italy, do you?**

**Starship Artisan: Hrm… so, the prophecy was a lot to take in, eh? Was it confusing, or did it take a while to sink in? Or, some other reason? Also, at least one nation will die. Up to three can die, or one of them can die. Cross your fingers and pray that your favourite isn't amongst the fallen ones.**

"_Maybe, someday, I won't have to do this… fleeing, fighting, killing…_

_Maybe… it'll come to an end. But, now isn't that time…"_

* * *

"_West!" he yelled, sprinting through the flurry of branches and leaves, his bootprints left in the snow. Gunshots boomed ahead, bullets whizzing past and into the trees. "West!" Had he seen him? Was he merely a mirage? "West! Where are you?"_

"_Never to be seen again…" a voice quietly whispered, too rough to be West's. "Give up now, while you still can. While you still can live…"_

"_I'd rather be dead than work under you!" another voice spat._

"_Then dead you shall be!" Metal clanged against metal, as swords parried and struck armor._

"_West!" he yelled again, a bullet grazing his cheek. The metal clanging grew louder and louder, until it made his ears buzz. _

"_And you expect me to believe that you are my match with your fighting?" the rough-voiced person mocked._

"_And you expect me to believe you're the king of all?" the other person remarked. "Quite pitiful, actually."_

"_West!" he yelled again, panicking. What would happen if he could never reach West, his own brother? Luckily, the trees parted, and he could see West, sword in hand, fighting another man, who seemed to be swathed in darkness._

"_West!"_

_He quickly glanced back, and, in that split-second, the man's sword lunged for his heart. The armor split, and bright red blood gushed out…_

_And, at that moment, the world seemed to stop. Slowly, he fell towards the earth, his dying breath fading into the air…_

"_WEST!"_

Prussia woke with a start, his own heart racing. For a second, he didn't know where he was, and he momentarily panicked. Until he remembered he had camped in the forest for the night. Daylight filtered through the leaves, dappling the light and turning the leaves an emerald green.

_Thank god it had been a dream,_ he thought, already pushing himself to his feet. Still, he was left with one question: where was West? The last time he had seen him was a week before, when he had left to go to the meeting. Still, he knew he would find West.

_The awesome me can find him! _Of course, this was mere speculation. But, speculation was as good as law in Prussia's opinion. Besides, there was only so much ground West could cover before he had to break. He would find him then! And, then they could find the others, and then they could beat everyone, and everyone would like them, and—

And he was getting ahead of himself. Prussia didn't find Germany each time; sometimes, Germany found him, or he came back. What… what would happen if he never found West? What then?

Prussia shook his head. That could never happen. He would find West. They would track down the others. But, how would he—

The phone! He could call him and track him down like that! Excited, Prussia whipped out his phone and started punching Germany's number in. Then, they could find each other, then the others, and—

No answer. Germany wasn't picking up the phone. Why? Soon, the loud beep, telling him to leave a message.

But, just as he was about to hang up, a voice. It crackled with static, but Prussia was still able to figure out what they were saying.

"Hello?" the voice asked, sounding unsure.

"Who is this?"

"You called. You should know."

Already, the person was already starting to annoy him. "Considering this is my brother's phone, and you're not my brother, no, I wouldn't know."

"Then who is your brother?"

"Ludwig. Or, do you not know him?"

"Actually, I do." There was a slight muffled noise as the man set down the phone and called someone over. Footsteps crackled in the background.

"Who is this?" another person asked, the deep voice instantly recognizable.

"West!"

"Prussia?"

"West! Where are you? I've been looking for you for days!"

"Hold on. Where are you? The forest?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Get out of there right now."

"Why?"

"There are things in there that would love to have you for dinner."

Germany, believing in _fairy tales and myths? _This was a first. "And when did you start believing this?" Prussia mockingly asked.

"When they blinded me in my left eye and nearly killed me," West hissed.

Well, that escalated quickly. "What?"

"Look, get out of there and I'll tell you where I am, got it?"

"Yeah, sure… wait, what things?"

"I can't tell you right now. Just get out of there. If you find any others, get them out as well."

"But—" The phone call ended with a click.

_Someone's not in a good mood_, Prussia thought, shoving the phone back into his pocket. Still, one thing continually nagged at him. What had West meant when he said "there are things in the forest that would love to have you for dinner"? Were they human? Animals? Or… were they something else? And… West had gotten hurt?

_Probably nothing the awesome me can't handle. _On that note, Prussia trudged through the forest, the smell of damp leaves and bark in the afternoon air.

* * *

"_So," the man hissed, "this man… the pale one… you believe he poses a threat to our empire?"_

_The closest one, Arkweir, nodded. "Yes, sir. I believe so," he answered in a husky low voice._

_The man turned to face Arkweir. "And why do you think so?"_

_Arkweir merely pushed the shorter one, Alhasser, ahead, who trembled with fright. Stammering, he squeaked out, "W-well, s-sir—"_

"_Get on with it!"_

"_W-well, he-he seemed to h-have a pe-peculiar-v-vision."_

"_And what do you mean by that?"_

_Alhasser gulped. "W-well… I-I think i-it was one about the future, s-sir."_

"_Describe it. And don't stammer as much."_

"_I-it appeared to be one about the final battle, t-the one in the prophecy."_

_The man thought for a moment, then said, "And you believe he needs to die?"_

_Arkweir nodded. "Should we dispatch someone to take care of him? Or let the spies do so?"_

"_I will take care of him, my Lord." Arkweir turned and trotted off, his iron sword swaying lightly at his side._

"_And you," the man said, turning to Alhasser. "Make sure he actually kills him this time. If he fails to kill him again, his head will be on a stick. This does not need to be a repeat of last time."_

_Alhasser nodded, then quickly scurried off._

* * *

It was about five when Prussia finally decided to stop and take a break. He had cleared the forest about an hour ago, as Germany had told him to, but he had not seen a single thing in the forest other than a sick-looking squirrel. Really, it did not look as well as it should have. Anyway, Prussia stopped in the middle of what looked like a plain. Long grass about a third of a meter high (about a foot) covered the ground, the long green strands swaying in the wind. The sun was a little over the horizon, and Prussia estimated it would be at eight when the sun finally set, and nine when it grew dark. So, he had a lot of time to waste.

In order to waste that time, for about an hour, he tried to find something to eat. For another hour and a half, he tried to find his way back to where he was at. Then, for the next thirty minutes, he took a short nap, until the scratching of the grass blades annoyed him too much to fall asleep. Finally, he just watched the sun set (which looked like an orange), before he remembered to call back Germany.

"What now?" he asked, exasperated, as soon as Prussia had called him.

"Well, the forest is god-knows-how-far away. What now?"

"So, you've cleared the forest?"

"No, idiot, I'm still in it! Yes, I'm out of the forest, where the hell are you?"

"More or less, where the hell are you?"

"In the middle of a _fucking plain_."

"Wonderful. Then I can find you. Any questions?"

"You told me where you would be…"

"That's not a question, that's a statement. Therefore, you have no questions, and I can leave. Goodbye." The phone call ended with a click, and Prussia stowed the phone away again.

In about twenty minutes, the first stars began to twinkle in the dark sky. The moon shone like a silver coin, and midnight blue clouds occasionally obscured the moon. The warm air felt nice, and a light breeze brought cooler air to the plain. Soon after the sky was dotted with the stars, crickets started chirping. It almost sounded like a bunch of violins. At about nine thirty, though, all chirping died.

Prussia thought it was because all the crickets had moved away. But, that was before he found a small legion of them scurrying away from the forest.

_Weird, _he thought, as one hopped over him. It only got stranger. Soon, swarms of mice came out of their underground burrows and darted off, some climbing over others to get away. At this point, Prussia was thoroughly convinced something was wrong. And he was about to see what.

_There, on the other side of the field, a person stood. A sword hung at their side. The wind gently swept their blackish hair to the side. Green, cunning eyes swept over the field, focusing on the silver-haired, red-eyed man. A smirk crossed his face. So, this was the man he had to kill. He started towards the man, his hand lightly grasping the hilt of his sword. This was going to be a simple task…_

"Hello," someone said, startling Prussia. He looked up, and was met with a nice-looking man. He had an angular face and green, almond-like eyes. Windswept, black hair reached to their chin. He had a tanned complexion to himself.

"Er… who are you?" Prussia unsurely asked.

"Jonas. You?"

"Gilbert. What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for a friend of mine. What are you doing here, then?"

"Ah… well…" What was he supposed to tell the man? "I was waiting for someone…"

"Out here? Why?"

"Well… I don't think he liked me to be in the forest…"

"Why?"

"He said there were things in there…"

"Yeah, I've heard about them," Jonas said. "That's why I carry this sword." He patted the hilt of his sword, which Prussia had failed to see earlier. "What do you carry?"

"A phone," Prussia said.

"…I don't think that will be very useful." He thought for a moment, then added, "Or, it could be. You could temporarily blind them by shining the light in their face. Or chucking the phone at them."

Prussia just shrugged. "Well, it's not as useful as a sword."

"Not as useful as a gun."

"A gun would be nice."

"Very nice."

Suddenly, a bell-like tone chimed. It wasn't Prussia's phone…

"Sorry," Jonas said, taking the phone out of his pocket. "You mind waiting a bit?" Not waiting for an answer, he stood up and walked off some ways before finally answering the phone call.

"_What?" he hissed._

"_The man isn't dead yet," a voice snapped back. Alhasser. "Why not?"_

"_I'm getting to it, alright?"_

"_Then hurry up. Boss won't be happy if you continue to delay."_

"_Look, I'm not delaying—"_

"_You are as long as you're talking to me! Kill the idiot and get a move on!"_

"_It isn't that simple, Alhasser! You can't run up to someone and rip their throat out!"_

"_Actually, you can. Get. A. Move. On. Otherwise, your head is on a stick." With that, the phone call ended with a click._

"Sorry," Jonas said again, stuffing the phone into his pocket and standing beside of Prussia. "You know, there's a spot a little ways back, where you can see practically everything. Maybe you can find your friend."

"Sure…" Prussia said. Should he really trust Jonas? He did have a sword… but, if he actually wanted to do anything, he would have done it by now, wouldn't he?

"You see that hill up there?"

Prussia turned to look. "No… why?"

"Well, keep looking… It can kind of blend in, it's so far away."

"Still can't see it."

"Just keep looking…"

Prussia never heard the sword slide out of its casing, nor did he hear the blade whistling through the air. The only thing he knew was the blinding pain as it tore into his side.

**So… this concludes the eighth chapter! Hope it wasn't that confusing! So, yes, I've introduced plenty of other characters that could fit into the prophecy. So, if you're a tad confused, I'll list the possible candidates: America, England, France, China, Russia, Prussia, Japan, Italy, Alara, Ezexion, Raiden, Arkweir, and Alhasser. The definite one is Germany. Have fun, you guys. So, as always, review, favourite, follow, lurk in cyberspace, read other stories… blah blah blah. Until next time!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright, so, ninth chapter! So, yes, the updates may become slower, but I'll still try to update very week. So, reviewer shoutout!**

**Starship Artisan: So, you don't want America or Germany to die? I may be able to fulfill your wish; but, in the highly unfortunate case that I can't… well, don't curse me. Please, don't. No good ending, then. (And, I do apologise if I irritated you, with me asking about the whole prophecy thing.) And, maybe, no sequel.**

**HetaPastaH3ro: And you think America's going to die, and possibly Germany or Japan? And Artisan-kun doesn't want him to… hmmm… someone's prediction must not be fulfilled… may the odds be ever in your favor, the both of you!**

"_Because I could not stop for Death—_

_He kindly stopped for me—_

_The Carriage held but just Ourselves—_

_And Immortality." -Emily Dickinson_

"England lied to us!" France snapped, shivering in the snow. It fell in waves; it would be furiously raining down for a few minutes, then floating through the air another few, then it went back to raining down. If it got any colder, America was sure the water would freeze into icicles. It already was starting to: the water in France's hair had frosted over, making his hair frizzy and stiff. He was not happy at all.

"Dude, calm down! We can find our way back!" America said, looking behind himself. "Or not…" He took off his glasses and hung it on the rim of his shirt. The water freezing on them had rendered the glasses near useless, unless America wanted to see the frost melt on his glasses.

"What do you mean, 'or not'?! You better find a way back!" France looked akin to a cat that had been dunked in water. All he needed to do was hiss and America would be thoroughly convinced he was one.

"Calm down, alright?! Yelling at me isn't going to help!" America pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He was starting to shiver as well.

France muttered something hatefully in French, then sulked off, glaring at America out of the corner of his eye. His boots made squishing sounds, either from the mud or from his water-soaked socks.

America sighed, then started searching for some footsteps. Anything that could get him back to England. Not that he really wanted to get France and England back together and into a fight, but he was tired of dealing with the French man's hatred. At least England had built immunity against it.

Sadly, there were no footsteps, as the rain had washed them away. The land was bare for miles upon miles; not a forest was in sight. Sighing, America walked over and sat down next to France.

"Can't find any," America said.

"Fan-freaking-tastic," France hissed.

America sighed. "Well, maybe the others will find us?"

"How the hell will they?! There's nothing to trace us, absolutely nothing to even give them the faintest fucking idea of where we are!"

This was the first time he had heard France swear, so America was shocked.

"Jus—just try to get some sleep, okay?"

France muttered something else, then numbly laid down on the ground and draped his sodden jacket over himself.

America sighed. How was he going to keep France from freezing to death? And… the prophecy. Was it true? Where were the others? Russia, China, Japan, Italy, Germany. Where were they? Lost? Searching for them? Lost? Or… dead?

America shook his head. No, they couldn't be dead. Then again, after last night… anything seemed possible.

What happened on the first day?

_I don't know. Everything and everyone was gone. Well, except for France and England._

What about the blur?

America tried to remember. _I—I think it was a person. They were wearing a kinda burgundy suit. I think they had light hair._

And who had been wearing that coloured suit?

_Well, it hadn't been England or France. Both were wearing black suits. And, it definitely wasn't me. Russia had been wearing a white one, and the only other person was… Germany._

It had been Germany. The blur he had seen on the first day had been Germany. How could he have not noticed it?!

America closed his eyes and focused back onto the first day. Which direction had Germany been running?

_The sun was almost overhead. So, I had been facing north. And, Germany had been running eastward._

But, why?

_Why what? _

Why had Germany been running?

Why had he been running? Trying to catch up to someone? Or… running away from something?

Now, he finally remembered. The flashlight bobbing up and down. The other black, shadowy blur following after. And… had there been blood? Spattered across Germany's face?

"France, wake up," America said, shaking France's shoulder.

"What?" France muttered, rolling over to face America.

"The first day. Did you see what happened?"

"No, I didn't. Why?"

"Remember that blur I'd been talking about?"

"What about it?"

"I think it was Germany."

France pushed himself off the ground and into a sitting position. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, the blur was wearing something dark, right? But, not black. Like a reddish-black, like burgundy. Remember what colour suit Germany had been wearing?"

"Burgundy. But, wasn't China also wearing a burgundy suit as well?"

"Yeah, but China has black hair. The blur had light hair. Germany had been the only blonde wearing a burgundy suit. The blur had to have been Germany!"

"How's that going to help?"

How was it? "I don't know, but…"

"But what?"

"He had blood on his face."

"So… you're saying Germany was hurt?"

"Yeah."

France sighed and ran his fingers through his knotted hair, cursing the weather. "That means there was something in the woods. Goddammit, my hair."

"But… there's never been anything in there."

"Exactly. Something else has to be in there. And tall enough to get a good cut on Germany's face. And, apparently, scary enough to make Germany run the opposite way."

"That isn't good."

"No, it is—" Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air, nearly causing the two to jump a mile.

"What the hell?!" he said, panic clear in his voice, already jumping to his feet. "France, come on!" America grasped France's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Where did it-?" Another scream rang through the air, chilling the two to the bone. It sounded like a woman…

"Come on!" America snapped, then turned and darted off, the driving sleet enveloping him within seconds.

"Hold on!" France called, struggling to keep up. The sleet pounded against his skin, the snow sticking to everything and the rain feeling like ice-cold bullets, and the air burned like fire with each breath. He kept losing his foothold, as the ground was mud and slush now.

"Come on, France!" America yelled somewhere up ahead.

"I'm trying—" France nearly fell again, splattering the bottom half of his pants with mud. "Dammit! Hold on!" Thankfully, that was the last of the mud, and the ground was frozen and hard, a layer of fluffy snow giving everything a pristine look.

"Hurry!"

"Just wait! I'll be there—" Abruptly, he was shoved back, and he nearly fell. "Hey!"

"Look, you were going to run into him!" America snapped.

"Him?" Just then, there was a gurgling sound, and France looked down. What he saw made his heart stop.

Just enough snow had been dug up to reveal who was lying in the snow. Had it not been for the red eyes, France never would have known it was Prussia. The guy was beat to hell: claw marks spanned across his chest and legs, blood coated his skin, and… well, with the cuts on his face, he looked akin to the Joker. Blood gurgled out of his mouth, he was shaking rather badly, and an open cut on his neck gushed blood.

"W—wha…?" he couldn't finish what he was trying to say. The words kept catching in his throat. Prussia…

"I—I don't know wh—what happened," someone stammered, as America bent to pick Prussia up, France taking a second to realize it was Hungary. "We—we were walking through and—and then we…" We?

"You found him," America finished. Blood was starting to stain his shirt, the splatters of blood standing in sharp contrast to his white shirt.

"Yes," another person confirmed. Austria. Of course the two had teamed up. "We had tried to head north, but I assumed we actually went south." He shook his head. "Or were we going west? East? Which direction, Hungary?"

"I thought it was northwest, but—"

She was interrupted by someone yelling, "We heard screaming! Who's hurt?" England quickly stopped, just before he ran into the bloody spatter Prussia had left on the ground.

"What's wrong?" another person yelled, masqueraded by the snow. The person managed to stop just short of running into England, and France saw that it was China, whose ponytail was frosted with snow.

"I don't know, but, when people scream, usually they aren't too good off, are they?" England hissed.

"Err, England-san, last time you screamed, it was because there was a tarantula hiding in your lunchbox," Japan quietly said, stopping next to China. "How did that happen, anyway?"

"Why couldn't we have walked?" Russia asked, stopping just ahead of England. "I've ran enough as it is…"

"Because someone was dying!" England snapped.

"How do you know?"

"Did we find Germany?" Italy asked, trotting beside of Japan.

"No-no, just stay back a little… err, why don't you go start collecting twigs for the fire?" England quickly said, ushering Italy back a few steps.

"Sure!" Italy turned and ran off again.

"So, Italy's out of the way…" England turned to America. "So, someone was dying."

"I dunno, I mean, I'm holding a guy that's near bled out by now," America curtly snapped. "But, no, he's fine and dandy. Nothing wrong."

Japan quietly peered around China's shoulder. "He does look rather bad…"

"Thank you, Sherlock."

Suddenly, England rounded on America. "And you! Why the bloody hell didn't you come back!? We spent half the goddamn night looking for you and that French twit! We thought you were as good as dead!"

"Hey, you started this! You told us there was a tree! And guess what? _There wasn't one!_ Who's the bright one now?"

"Obviously not you, if you can't even find your own tracks!"

"Well, it's not my fault if the rain washed them away!"

"This is no time to be arguing!" China snapped. "You're arguing over a _tree, _when someone is on the verge of dying! None of you are too bright then, are you-aru?"

"Oh, and what do you know about kids?" England snapped, rounding on China.

China pointed at Japan, who had been inching away from the group. "You forget, don't you?"

"Can we just get on with it and go back?" Russia muttered. "Even the cold's getting to me, and I've been to Siberia a lot…"

England muttered something else, gave America and France both a cold glare, then turned and walked off, the snow crunching and creaking.

"God, you two really need to work on these issues," China hissed, turning around. "Come on, Japan." He trotted off, dragging Japan along with him. Russia soon followed after, his scarf trailing behind in the wind. America muttered something under his breath, shifted Prussia around, then set off after the others.

France turned back to Austria and Hungary. "So… you just… found him?"

Hungary nodded, looking a bit pale. "Well, I found his phone…"

"Can I see it?"

"Uh… sure…" She dug around in her pocket, then pulled out a bloodied, but otherwise clean, blue phone, and handed it to France. It was one of the more recent smartphones, and it pinged as it was turned on. The battery was dying, but there was a message on the screen. It was: YOU HAVE ONE (1) UNREAD MESSAGE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO READ IT? The two options were the obvious ones: YES or NO. Like any other person would have done, France quietly tapped the YES option, and a white screen of text popped up. It chilled him to the bone as much as the sight of Prussia had. It read:

So, you've found your little friend, haven't you? Seen what happens when you know too much? I'd advise you to give up now; I can assure you, you'll never see your blonde German friend anymore. I took care of him for you. Do not try to find us. We know where you are, and we can quite easily kill you, like we did your German friend.

So, Germany was dead. They didn't need to look for him. It had all been a wild goose chase.

* * *

They found their way to the campsite quite easily; the footsteps in the snow were still quite see-able and not much snow had fallen. Little dots of blood also helped the threesome to find their way to the others. They knew they were getting close when they could see a flickering orange glow up ahead, just inside the forest, and partly obscured by tree branches and leaves. It was amazing they had found any dry wood, much less a dry place to camp.

When they parted the branches and came upon camp, they saw that everyone was rather restless. The only person that was still was Prussia, who had been wrapped up in jackets and placed about one and a half meters away from the burning fire.

Still, no one could sleep. There was agitated chatter, about what was going on, what happened to Prussia, and when, if ever, they would find the others. America was sitting away from the others, reading a piece of paper, while the others (excluding Prussia, of course) were huddled into a group. Italy had curled up near the fire, occasionally twitching in his sleep.

"What did happen to Prussia?"

"I dunno, maybe Austria and Hungary know."

"Where are they, anyway?"

"With France."

"Where is he, then?"

"Hell if I know… hey, anything seem… strange…?"

"Strange?"

America quietly looked up from his paper, and his eyes fell upon France.

"Huh," he said, already returning back to the paper. "England, they're here. No killing France or anyone."

"Great…" England muttered. "I have to deal with _him _again…"

"Would you rather be guarding?"

"All you're doing is sitting there, reading. Then again, it is a nice change." England muttered something to himself, them motioned the trio over. "Everyone's welcome. For now. Except France."

"'For now'?" Austria questioned, picking a spot between Russia and Italy. Hungary sat down beside of him, and France sat on the opposite side of Russia, near China.

"Well, America said something's out in the woods. Alien-like things. Only an idiot believes in aliens."

"Coming from the guy who summons demons in his basement, wears a ballet suit and a floral wreath to attract fairies, and claims to own a mint bunny with wings. Oh, and he said that he cursed Germany, even though Germany was rather lucky that week. Yeah, I'm an idiot."

The group broke out into laughter, while England turned a brilliant shade of red.

"I do not!" England snapped. "No gentleman dresses in a ballet suit!"

"So that's a perfectly good reason for you to get drunk and strip down to your underwear? I don't think so. And it's quite horrifying."

"Oh, and like you don't do anything when you're drunk?! I have photos!"

"I deleted them. Trust me, Iggy, you can't win."

"I've won plenty of times at plenty of things!"

"Yeah, none that involved me."

England, having nothing to say, glared icily at America, then sulked a little.

"Wait, what time?" Hungary asked.

"England said he cursed Germany so he'd have infinite bad luck until he apologized for something—"

"He broke my antique musket!" England snapped. "I used the thing against France!"

"Whatever," America said, rolling up the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. "Anyway, what happened that week was rather strange. He found something in his basement that was pretty expensive. He had minimal harassment from Romano. He had a lot of alone time, and Italy didn't bug him as much. In short, a very good week for Germany."

"And you forgot what happened next week," England commented.

"What did happen next week?" America asked.

"Monday? Ring a bell?"

"…That was last month, dude."

"No, it wasn't! I clearly remember dyeing his— fuck."

"So it was you." America had an evil smirk on his face. "Germany's gonna be so pissed when he finds out it was you!"

"If you find him," England muttered. The group, once ringing with laughter, fell silent.

"If we find him," America repeated sadly. "If he's still alive."

"You think Germany's dead?" Austria asked.

"Yeah, considering the last time I saw him, he was in a rough shape," America said. "He had blood all over his face, his clothes were torn, and…"

"And?"

"Well, he seemed to be running away from something."

"Which doesn't bode well for us," England quietly said. "You know Germany. He doesn't back down until he's near dead. Even then, I've seen him hesitate. Whatever made him run off after a cut… well, if it scares him, then it'll frighten the hell out of us."

"And if it killed him with one blow… who knows what it can do to us?"

"No, no, no, Germany can't be dead," Russia said.

"Why not?" England hotly said. "Everything is possible now—"

"Except for aliens," America mocked.

"Whatever!" England turned back to Russia. "Look, you've seen Prussia. America's seen Germany. Both of them are tough as nails. Germany could be dead, and Prussia's barely alive."

China shook his head. "I don't think Germany would retreat that quickly—"

"Who knows what Germany will and won't do anymore?! You know the guy as well as any of us! We don't know him as well as we think we do!"

"About the 'everything's possible' thing…" Japan said. "I have to side with America-san on this. England, you already know about the Netherworld."

"But…" England sighed and shook his head. "I-it can't be…"

"England, come on! You can't be blocking everything out!" America snapped.

"And what have you been doing these days?" England hissed back. "You've been hiding something from us, haven't you? Haven't you!?"

America didn't comment. He only said, "Back to the point. We think Germany's dead. Prussia's almost dead."

"But you don't know," France commented. America only nodded.

Russia muttered something under his breath.

"What did you say!?" America snapped, looking slightly paranoid.

"Nothing."

"You said something! Tell me!"

Russia sighed. "This is exactly why I don't like getting into groups in these situations."

China's eyes narrowed, as he glared at Russia. "That's not what you said-aru."

"And how would you know Russian?!"

"I know that's not what you said!"

"Then tell me, what did _I _say?"

"Russia, stop getting mad at everyone!" England snapped.

"Like you don't!" America hissed. "Tell me, when was the last time you've been nice to anyone because you could?"

"Everyone shut the hell up!" Hungary almost yelled, quickly silencing the group. "Quit bickering like little kids and get on with it!"

"…You're right," England softly said, after a while.

"Yeah," America agreed. The other nations quietly nodded.

"…Shouldn't we be worrying about Prussia?" France asked, looking back at Prussia, who looked slightly paler than before.

"Yeah, I guess we should," America said, standing up. "Call it a night?"

"Sure," England grumbled, standing up. "Better than listening to the git next to me." America glared at England, who smirked.

China sighed, standing up. "And we're back to arguing." He shook his head. "When will you two quit bickering?"

Not waiting for an answer, China picked a spot next to the fire, near the curled up Italy. Quietly, he lay down, and, in a few minutes, was sleeping. Soon after, every nation had picked a spot near the fire and had fallen asleep. Every nation except England and America. The fire burned brightly, illuminating England's piercing green eyes and shadowing America's lightning blue ones. The falling snow lightly dusted England's hair, while it frosted America's bluish-white shirt.

"So," England said, "you have been hiding something."

America shot him a glare. "Like you would know."

"It's the paper again, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure."

England sighed. "When are you going to tell the others about it?"

America shook his head. "Hell if I know."

"You can't keep hiding it forever, you know. You'll have to tell the others some time."

"I know, Iggy…"

England smiled. "Good." He found some dry twigs and tossed them into the fire, as it was starting to die out. "Go get some sleep." With that, England picked a dry spot, laid down on his back, and fell asleep, the stars above twinkling and the snow falling down like cold feathers.

America sighed and shook his head, then walked over to check on Prussia (Who, other than being a little cold and pale, was doing better than before). It wasn't as simple as England had put it. He couldn't just tell the others about the prophecy. If he did, he would be telling them that one of them might not make it out alive. Picking a spot between Italy and China, America curled up on the ground and uneasily fell asleep.

* * *

The moon was high overhead and the stars shining brightly when Italy woke up. The fire was nothing but glowing embers that looked like lava. At first, he didn't know what awakened him. Then, it became clear, as he heard snapping twigs. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he wondered when Germany would come back. Even though Germany could be mean some of the time, Italy missed him dearly.

Another snapped twig, this one much closer than the last one. Italy looked up, just in time to see a face staring at him.

"Hello?" he asked, still sitting.

Whoever the person had been, they ducked back behind the protection of the thick tree branches and began to discuss with another person. Then, the person poked their head back out, and, seeing that it was safe, unsurely stepped out.

The man had dark skin, almost as dark as the night sky itself. But, his eyes were hawk-like and piercing, and a citrus yellow. He was wearing some sort of sheen armor that glinted heavily in the moonlight, along with a helmet that concealed his hair. The woman that stepped out behind him was the exact opposite of the man. She was almost as pale as the snow that fell on the sleeping nations, and her green hair tumbled down to her waist. She had violet eyes, almost like Russia's, except they were more of a mysterious, deep purple. She was wearing icy blue robes that swept the snow-laced ground.

She noticed all of the sleeping nations, then Italy, who was staring at her curiously. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Who are you?"

"I am Alara," she said, gesturing to herself. "The man beside of me is Ezexion. Can I ask you a question?"

"S-sure," Italy replied, not knowing whether to trust the woman.

"I believe our people has one of your friends."

"R-really? Who?" Italy had a feeling it was Germany.

"Our leader has yet to tell us his name. But, he was carrying this when we found him. Tell me, do any of your friends carry this?" She gently tossed the object to Italy, who caught it in his hand. The object was light, and it was a little, knitted figurine of a white cat. Small specks of blood stained the pure white yarn.

About a year ago, for Christmas, Italy had made the little kitten key chain for Germany, saying that the cat "was just as serious as he was" and that it "even had the same blue eyes as him". Promptly after receiving the small gift, Germany had clipped it onto a key ring, saying that it was a nice and adorable gift. Germany always carried the key ring, as it held the house key and his car key. He never went anywhere without it.

**And this shall conclude chapter nine! So, tell me if I did a good job of portraying Hungary in this. I really don't know, as she doesn't appear that much in the comics (from what I've seen). Do I really need to say it? Favourite, follow, review, lurk around on tumblr or fanfiction, whatevs. I'd prefer you do the first three options, but, y'know, I don't always get what I want.**


	10. Chapter 10

**So, chapter ten is here (soooo sorry for the late update, guys! Microsoft ate some of my chapter, tumblr kept distracting me, and I've been working on a new story)! So, anyway, reviewer shoutout!**

**FullmetalWizard1995: So… you don't want anyone to die, but, if someone has to, let it not be Prussia? Hmm… I'll try and work with that… but be warned: I do not promise the future… (sorry, wasn't trying to sound like a fortune teller).**

**EternalEnergy: You too!? God, no one wants Germany to die! Well, as I said to Fullmetal, I'll try to accommodate your wishes as well, but, I do not make promises. Be warned, thy soul, for ye may be lost in a sea of eternal sorrow. (I had to pull that, I'm sorry.)**

**And, shoutout to all of the countries that have seen my story! They are, as of current: United States, Canada, Indonesia, Australia, Austria, Philippines, Puerto Rico, Germany, United Kingdom, Finland, Thailand, Ireland, Norway, Italy, Sweden, Singapore, Brazil, Poland, Japan, Spain, Peru, Chile, Taiwan, Vietnam, and Slovakia. Dear lord, guys! That's a LOT of countries! Keep it up! (Have a cookie for your hard work! Also, this amounts to eight hundred and sixty three views and visitors.)**

"_And I thought the dead, who have already died, more fortunate than the living, who are still alive; _

_but better than both is the one who has not yet been, and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun."_

"Wh-where d-did you get that?" Italy asked, looking up at Alara, still holding the tiny cat.

"I told you, we found it on your friend," she said, glancing sideways at Ezexion, who was examining the leaves of a tree.

"B-but—"

"All we know is that our Lord requests that we bring your friends back. He says there is an imminent danger if you stay here."

So… America had been right? Italy numbly stood up, still clutching the kitten keychain.

"I would suggest you wake your friends," Alara said, nodding towards the cluster of sleeping nations.

"Oh! Ah, okay!" Italy scurried over to the nearest nation (which happened to be China, who was laying on his side) and tried to wake him (aka, repeatedly prodding him). "China… you need to wake up…"

"Go away, Italy…" China muttered, trying to shoo Italy away.

"But, China, you need to wake up!"

"Why, exactly-aru?"

"These people… they say they've found Germany!"

China rolled onto his back and cracked his eyes enough to glare at Italy. "Right…"

"B-but they have!" Italy showed him the small kitten keychain. "They have!"

"Just because they found a white kitten figurine doesn't mean anything, Italy," China said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "You gave the same figurine to Finland, Sweden, and Canada. It could have been them."

"But theirs didn't have blue eyes! The one I gave Germany did!"

China still didn't look convinced.

"Please, China…"

China sighed and said, "Fine-aru." He pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his pants leggings.

"Your friend was blonde, by the way," Alara said, startling China and causing him to whirl around and face Alara.

"W-who are they?" China demanded, glaring sternly at Italy.

"They're the people that said they found Germany!" Alara clearly look confused, as to why they were referring to each other by the names of various countries.

China eyed them suspiciously, then turned back to Italy. "Are you sure…?"

"Yeah! Come on, we need to wake up the others!" Italy trotted over to England next, and began to prod him.

"England, wake up…"

"What do you want, Italy?"

"You need to wake up!"

"And why should I?"

"These people, over there… they say they found Germany!"

England sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching. "Finally, we get to stop tracking the bastard down…" He looked over at China, who was now trying to get a twig out of his sock, and said, "Italy woke you up?"

China looked up briefly, then went back to his sock, saying, "Yes."

"I'm just going to assume Italy's going to wake everyone up," England muttered, standing up and brushing off his shirt.

"He will," China replied back.

"And Italy has complete faith in these people?" England asked, glancing suspiciously at the people.

China straightened out and shrugged. "Who knows anymore-ahen?"

"Russia, wake up! England, help me!"

England sighed. "This is how I'll die," he muttered, before going to assist Italy in trying to wake the rock (or, more accurate, hibernating bear) known as Russia.

China shook his head and held back a laugh. Italy would believe anyone, as long as they said they knew where Germany was. Still… what if, by some miracle, those people were right? What if America had been wrong? What if…

China was rudely jerked back to reality as someone almost crashed into him, the person being a very harassed-looking America, glasses askew and a dirt smudge on the tip of his nose.

"Sorry, dude!" he quickly apologized, trying to straighten out the crooked bridge in his glasses. "Dammit… " Failing to straighten out the obvious kink, he stuck them on the hem of his shirt, looking annoyed.

"What woke you?"

America jerked his head a little to the side, indicating Russia, who definitely did not look happy. His eyes were narrowed considerably, and his hair was still sticking up. Italy probably woke him during a dream that involved sunflowers, sunshine, and warmth.

"Russia doesn't look happy," America commented.

"No, he doesn't," China said, his gaze returning back to America.

America looked over his shoulder and spotted the two people. Turning back to China, he asked, "Who are they?"

China shrugged. "All Italy said was that they found Germany-aru."

"I thought he was dead."

"Apparently, you were wrong."

Just as America was about to retort with something, an ear-splitting shriek of pain ripped through the air, and another quick yelp of shock pierced the air briefly. America twisted around to look, and China peered over his shoulder, and they quickly saw what had happened.

Apparently, Austria had accidentally stepped on Prussia's hand. And, just as apparent, that hand had some broken bones in it. The result was Prussia clutching his hand while curled up in a ball, howling like a wounded dog (and still wrapped up in the jackets), Austria standing off to the side, looking as if he had stepped on a kitten, and Hungary glaring at Prussia as if, somehow, it was his fault, though a slight trace of sympathy was etched onto her face.

"A-are you okay?" Austria managed to say, looking a little pale.

"No, you fucking idiot! Dammit, Austria, why the hell do you always screw everything up?!" the Prussian snapped, his eyes full of menace.

Austria huffed. "At least I asked."

"An obvious question!" Then, the topic changed to Prussia's own misery. "How dare you step on the awesome me! How dare you! My hand, _the hand of the Awesome Me, _is broken! Because of you!"

Austria looked slightly confused, then sighed and shook his head. "At least Germany's thoughts are more coherent than those you hold." He turned away from the utterly pissed Prussian and off to harass Italy about how dirty his shirt was.

"Run off, sissy-boy! Run away!" Austria stared at him, obviously trying to decide whether the years of head trauma from Hungary's frying pan had damaged his brain.

Now, it was Hungary's turn to return the menacing glare. "What…did you call… Austria?" She was already starting to step towards Prussia, hand reaching to draw out her frying pan.

Now, Prussia looked scared, as he always did when Hungary drew out the ever-dreaded pan. "Eheh, nothing, nothing, just, y'know, light-_ack!"_ He barely managed to dodge the first pan hit, rolling off to the side with a yelp. He quickly scrambled to his feet (quickly shedding the layer of coats) and managed to put a good distance between him and Hungary, glaring at her menacingly, but also afraid to step any closer. Hungary, narrowed eyes and all, held her pan aloft for a few seconds, then, shooting Prussia a glance that clearly challenged him to insult Austria again, returned it back to her side and trotted back to Austria's side. Prussia still stepped backwards, and unconsciously rubbed his broken hand, wincing slightly.

"Well, Prussia's okay," America said, picking his coat off the ground and holding it at a distance. "My coat isn't, though." He sighed, shook his head, and bundled it up into a wad.

"He's still bleeding," China pointed out.

America looked back up at Prussia, who was still rubbing his hand. "Where?"

"His cheeks-aru."

America sighed, shook his head, and returned back to China. "He'll keep bleeding the longer we wait around." He turned to the cluster of nations. "Alright, guys! Let's go!"

There was a fair amount of groaning, then, one by one, the nations filed out, following the two other strange people. After a few moments, the only nations left were America and Prussia, who was straightening out his coat (which was midnight blue).

"What happened?" America asked, as he and Prussia followed after the others. The leaves blocked out much of the moonlight, so the forest was blanketed in twilight darkness.

"Some bastard," Prussia hatefully muttered, rubbing some blood off his cheek with the cuff of his coat.

"'Some bastard' isn't very descriptive." America swatted away an orange firefly, which seemed to provide the only light in the forest.

"I think he was named 'Jonah', or something like that. Jackson? Jonas?" America could barely see Prussia shrug. "Hell if I know. He looked like Spain, except a tanner one. With green eyes."

"So… he looked like Spain?"

"Yeah."

"Turkey looks like Spain, except he has yellow eyes. Sometimes, when it's dark, yellow eyes can look like green eyes."

America thought he saw Prussia shake his head. "Wasn't Turkey. Turkey's too clever to get in a situation like that. Besides, he knew he'd get in trouble from Germany if he did."

"Then who was it?"

"A guy named Jonah, or Jackson, or—"

"Jonas."

Prussia sighed, and it was a few seconds before he talked again. "If those people are right, and they do have West, then… what does that leave us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Meaning, I know West. Unless he was badly injured or if he knew he could get something out of this, he would never agree to going along with strangers. Obviously, there's something going on. Either we find out what managed to almost kill West, or we find out what he saw in this."

America considered this for a moment. "Maybe, but I don't think it's—" the prophecy. "It might be both."

"How can it be both?"

"There was a scroll of paper someone gave to me. It was a prophecy."

"What does that have to do with West?" Prussia muttered, as a firefly danced away, its green light bobbing up and down.

"I—I think it talked about some warrior, and… I think it said someone had to die."

"Still, what does it have to do with West?"

"Well, the warrior might be Germany."

Silence for a few moments. "You think…"

"Might be."

Prussia shook his head. "Can't be… can't be…"

"I'm not saying it is, dude. I'm just saying—"

"Stop talking."

America was taken aback by Prussia's remark. "W-what?"

"I told you to stop talking about it."

"Why?"

"Because you're suggesting West could die."

"No, I'm not. I never said anything about Germany." Then, it clicked. Prussia assumed it was Germany because he was the only one missing. And… had there been a time when England talked about something like this? Yes, there had! He had said something was going to happen in the future that involved Germany! But… Prussia hadn't been at that meeting. "How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"The prophecy's last lines. How do you know?"

"You just told me, idiot." The leaves above started to thin out, allowing more moonlight in, and America could see a look of bitterness etched into the Prussian's face.

"I only told you someone had to die."

Prussia sighed. "Don't ask questions that have no answers."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Prussia glared at America, and America could see a look of fury and—was it even?—resentment in his eyes (was there also sadness? America couldn't tell; the viciousness masked it). "Meaning, don't fucking ask questions that have no fucking answers."

"I never asked you a question." Why was Prussia suddenly defensive?

"You were implying a question. You wanted to know how I knew."

"And how do you?"

"Don't ask."

"Why not?"

"Because I told you not to, and if you do, then you'll have to explain to West why his brother left."

America sighed. "Fine." He didn't want to let the matter drop, however. How did Prussia know? How…?

After about a minute of walking, the trees started to disappear, as the forest came to a close. The moonlight illuminated everything, letting America see the various creatures that scuttled across the forest floor and into the same recluse of the trees. A cockroach, a centipede, a worm… a small blood drop on the moss-covered floor.

"You're still bleeding," America quietly said, as the forest came to a close. The midnight air howled with ferocity, and the few dark clouds stretched across the moon like threads of yarn. The moon glowed like a silver coin tossed into black oblivion, and the stars twinkled like diamonds. The other nations stood around, looking slightly confused, as the wind grabbed at their hair.

"Like I care," Prussia gruffly answered, wrapping his coat around himself, to fend off the biting wind. His left cheek was a shining scarlet, while his other cheek remained pale.

America sighed, shook his head, and looked back up at the others. The two strange people were gone. But, there was something behind the nations that was being pulled in slowly… carriages? But, it was what was pulling them that really caught America's eye.

Dragging the carriages along, tethered to them by leather straps, were the walking skeletons of horses. Neon blue tatters of skin clung to their frame. Some of the bones on them were stained a blackish-red, while the rest were a stark white. The bones were barely held together with wires that twisted the joints together, and the bones creaked and moaned with each step. The hooves clattered and clomped, as they pulled the carriages up in front of the nations, who were staring in bewilderment at the otherworldly sight. England didn't look too fazed, however.

The carriages were vastly different from the creatures pulling them. The carriages were a shining white, decorated with inked rose designs. The doors on the carriages were fitted on the sides, and they were oaken, with brass handles and hinges. Small windows were cut into the doors, allowing America to partially see the inside of the carriages. The insides seemed to be a leather brown colour, and golden fleurs-de-lis decorated the insides. America could barely see the top of a leather chair inside the carriage.

"Are we supposed to ride those?" America heard France said.

"No, we're supposed to stand on top of them, idiot," England replied, stepping up to one of the horses and resting his hand on their snout. The horse snorted and shook its head. "I've seen these before…"

"When?! If you see those things every day, there's something wrong with you!"

"I see them occasionally, mostly lurking in the woods." England turned back to France, who looked slightly terrified. "Why?"

"You see… _dead horses? Every day?"_

England shook his head and returned back to the dead horse, muttering something.

"That's completely normal," America quietly said, walking to the side of France.

"For England," France replied back. "Everything's that normal to the little Brit is borderline psychosis for us."

"Still… we need to get going, right?"

France sighed. "Under any normal circumstances, I wouldn't board a carriage driven by dead horses."

"But…"

"These aren't normal conditions, are they?"

America shook his head. "Not at all." Just then, one of the people stepped out of the first carriage and started towards the cluster of nations.

"Pick a carriage, but not the first one," the green-haired one said. "And, please, don't upset the horses, shake the carriage, or leave it in a worse condition."

The nations, still recovering from the shock of the skeleton horses, nodded numbly.

"Alright then. Pick one. The sooner this is done, sooner you can see your friend. Got it?"

Another nod from the nations, and the woman turned and strode back to the first carriage.

"You heard the lady," America said, nudging France with his elbow. "Go pick a carriage."

"You pick one."

"Fine, the…" America counted the carriages, which totaled to seven. "Third one."

"Prussia beat you to it."

"Really?" America twisted around, and, sure enough, the Prussian was nowhere to be seen. "Well, the fourth one then."

"Mind sitting with Italy?"

America turned back around. "Nope. Come on." America led France toward the carriage, but ended up dragging him to it when they were within ten feet of it. France really didn't like the idea of a dead horse pulling them to their destination. Pulling the door open, America had to push France in, then he had to quickly enter and shut the door before France tried to escape. The fleurs-de-lis America had seen inside weren't exactly the same symbols France constantly drew, saying that they were "gorgeous, just like me!" Instead of three petals, there were five, and above the middle petal was a British-style crown. A black line ran underneath the fleurs-de-lis.

"So, Italy," America said, glancing around the cabin (France was sitting down, his fingers nervously twitching), his eyes resting on the happy Italian. "You sure the people are right?"

"Yeah!" Italy chimed, holding a small keychain. "See, they had—" Italy handed the keychain to America, "this! It belonged to Germany!"

America quietly looked at the keychain as he sat down in one of the squishy, leather chairs. "You sure? I could've sworn you gave the same one to me…"

"No, yours had glasses!"

America sighed and tossed the keychain back to Italy. "But… never mind." He turned to France. "France."

"_Oui?"_

"About Prussia…"

"What about the man?" He considerably tensed when the carriage lurched into motion, and America heard someone (presumably Prussia) laughing insanely.

"Well, he seemed to know a bit about the prophecy…"

"And? You did tell him, didn't you?"

"No, I only told him the last ones, and he automatically assumed it had to be Germany."

France looked quizzically at America. "Why?"

"Remember that meeting a couple of months ago? In April?"

"Yes. What does it have to do with—"

"England said something would happen that involved Germany. He had to have been talking about this!"

France sighed. "America, he also said that, after the eleventh, the meeting would be sabotaged. We came there, on the twelfth, and nothing happened."

"Well, you accidentally spilled wine on Germany's papers. That sabotaged it."

France sighed tiredly. "Alright. Suppose Prussia is right. Suppose he is correct about Germany facing this—who was he?—Conqueror of Death. What were the last lines?"

"It said 'one must draw their final breath'."

"So… either this Conqueror or Germany has to die?" France shook his head. "Nonsense."

"Whaddya mean, nonsense!?"

"Meaning, I won't believe this until we get there. This person could be anyone. Could be you, could be me, could be old China. It could be anyone."

"But—"

"End of conversation."

America glared at France one last time, then turned to Italy, who was playing around with the keychain. God, if Germany did die… how would Italy react? Sure, he'd believe Germany was just lost for the first week, but then… he'd realize Germany would never come back. What would he be like then?

America shook his head. No, it couldn't happen. Germany couldn't die. No one would allow it.

* * *

The first indication to America that they had arrived at their destination was the blinding light that filtered in through the window. Curiously, America stuck his head around the window—and gasped.

The place was even grander than the tales of golden castles England told him when he was little. It was styled in fashion of the old gothic churches England proudly spoke of, even though this city was, by far, greater than the churches could ever be. There were at least a dozen spires, and it made the castle look as if it were a giant, marble crown that sat on the ground. The walls were made of some pure white stone (it appeared to be marble), and the smooth walls glistened in the moonlight. The stone bricks fit so perfectly, the walls seemed to be carved out of one block of stone. A clock sat on the middle (which also happened to be the tallest) spire, its golden hands slowly revolving around the black face, the numbers gilded in silver. From the clock, it looked to be 12:47. A smooth, granite path was paved up to the castle's doorstep. A massive, gold-gilded gate barred the way, which was attached to a stone grey wall.

"And Germany's been living here…" America quietly said, as the carriage drew closer to the castle in front of him.

"Living where?" France asked, standing up and moving towards the window. He managed to peer out the window, and his jaw dropped. "Dear lord…"

"I know!"

"We're here?" Italy asked, jumping to his feet. "Yay!"

The carriage grinded to a halt, and America just managed to pull the door open before Italy ran out.

France shook his head, a light smile marking his face. "Someone's happy." He quietly stepped out the carriage and began chasing Italy down, who had managed to almost knock over Prussia. As America stepped out and shut the door, chatter filled the air, as the nations gawked at the massive castle that stood before them.

"I see you're impressed," a light voice said, as the green haired woman stepped out of the first carriage, the man stepping out soon afterwards.

"It is rather magnificent," Austria commented, brushing the sleeve of his coat off.

"Just magnificent?" England asked. "A huge understatement!"

"Seems like the kind of place Austria would lurk in," Prussia muttered.

"When do we get to see Germany?" Italy asked, stopping beside of the woman, France almost running into him.

"Your friend?" the woman asked, a smile playing on her face. "Follow after me." With that, she turned and started towards the gate, Italy following behind.

The man turned to the nations. "I suggest you do as she says. Anyone not recognized by the kingdom will be killed on sight."

This set the nations (including France and America, while Prussia looked bored) in motion, and they scurried after the woman, who was watching as the gate was pulled back by dozens of armor-clad guards.

"This way," the woman said, gesturing the nations through the gate.

America sighed. _No turning back now,_ he thought, as the gate closed behind him with a thud.

* * *

"_Sir," someone asked. The man turned around, the fierce red eyes glowing from underneath his black hood. The short one again, Alhasser._

"_What?" the man hissed._

"_I-I'm afraid Arkweir failed."_

"_How so? You told me he saw the man die!"_

"_I-I don't know, sir. He did, but, somehow, the man lived. I-I honestly do not know how."_

"_Then, where is Arkweir?"_

"_I-I do not know either…"_

"_You're telling me… he fled?"_

"_H-He might have, Sir. I-It's a possibility."_

"_Find Arkweir and bring him back. As for the Janxes…"_

"_What about them, Sir?"_

"_Let's show them the true power of the Renwides. Unleash the armies, and let them infiltrate the worlds."_

_Alhasser looked nothing short of shocked. "T-The Netherworld and the Aetherworld? Sir, this is extremely risky—"_

"_If it fails, we still have our other countless legions to fight the enemy. If we succeed, then Death will be under my control."_

_Alhasser nodded. "Very well, Sir." He scurried down the hall, barking orders at the generals and commanders to gather their armies, for they were about to set the prophecy into motion._

* * *

Inside the castle were countless halls; it felt as if it were some type of labyrinth. Heavy curtains covered the windows, doors barricaded rooms off, and guards patrolled the halls. Portraits of former leaders hung on the walls, but the freakiest part was that they moved and talked. Several times, America nearly had a heart attack when one would abruptly say, "Hello!", reach out and poke him, or when they chased after him from portrait to portrait, barking at him. The last one had been a knight, yelling, "Intruder! Intruder! This man is not like the rest!", as he stalked him, occasionally jabbing him with his sword.

_Germany must've gotten lost plenty of times, _America thought, trailing behind the woman (who had finally introduced herself as Alara) as she led them down one particularly clean corridor. _And freaked out. Imagine walking down the halls at night with these guys!_ Many of the oaked doors were closed, and there were few lit torches that illuminated the halls. At the end of the corridor, a yellow light filtered out from underneath a door. The door measured two and a quarter meters by one meter (about seen feet by three feet), and the brass handle on the door was shaped like a rose.

"Now, be quiet," Alara said, as she neared the door. "Even though your friend isn't sleeping, others are. Be considerate of the others."

"This is West's room?" Prussia asked, stepping up to the door. "Fancy."

"Also, don't try to hurt him," Alara said, turning the door knob and pushing the door open slightly. "He already has (America saw Prussia stiffen and pale, the blood finally wiped off his cheek), and he still hasn't healed."

"How… badly?"

Alara sighed. "It was about five days ago. Rather badly, when we took him in."

"Not what I wanted to hear," Prussia muttered.

As soon as Alara pushed the door open enough, Italy slipped in. Barely a second later, there was a squeal of "Germany!" Silently, America and Prussia peered through the door. Italy seemed to be squeezing the life out of Germany, who looked slightly uncomfortable as he tried to pry himself from Italy's hug. And America saw why Alara had said to be gentle around him. A scar ran across his face, and his other eye appeared somewhat whiter than the other eye. Other than that and a few scars (which were rather large), he looked like he always did.

The room itself was rather nice, yet simple. A blue blanket spread across the bed, which was supported by a cherry wood frame. The pillows on the bed were a plain white, and they appeared to be rather soft. The walls were a simple light tan, and the carpet on the floor was brown. An oak drawer sat across from the bed, a mirror resting atop it. A light, gauzy curtain covered the window in the room, which happened to be open. The room was illuminated by a light that hung from overhead, encased in a dome-like shell.

"Italy…" Germany growled lowly. "Get…off… me…"

"But, I haven't seen you since forever!" Italy wailed, squeezing Germany even more.

"And that was what? Five days ago?"

"It's nice to see you're still yourself, West," Prussia said, stepping into the room.

"You too, br—" Germany paused, then asked, "What happened?"

Prussia shrugged, stepping closer to Germany. "Same thing that happened to you, I guess." Each of the nations were stepping into the room, quietly looking around.

"What, being near clawed to death? I doubt it."

Before Prussia could say any more, France stepped in, saying, "Germany! It's nice to see you again! Tell me, is it quite nice here?"

"Minus the heckling guards and talking portraits?" Germany asked, prying himself out of Italy's grasp. "Yes, it is."

"Really?" America asked, following France. "That's all you can say? This place is _awesome! _The outside of it is—"

"I've never seen the outside," Germany coldly said.

"…Why not?"

"Considering I came in here unconscious, I don't think I cared much about the view."

Silence. Then, Austria stepped in, saying, "I am grateful you are doing better then, Germany."

"You too," Germany replied. "Besides, what took you so long in getting here?"

"We were left in a forest," America said. "Unlike some people."

Before Germany could reply with something equally vicious, Japan intervened. "America, it wasn't Germany's fault he found his way here. Perhaps you should view it as that we also managed to find our way here."

"Still," England said, picking up a rose carved into jet, "how did you get here, Germany?"

"A very long story that can—"

"Err…Ludwig?" someone asked, as they peered through the doorway. He was a short man, shorter than Japan, and he had mousy grey hair that was quickly combed back. He had orange-ish eyes that peeked out from the strands of hair. He had a small, pointed nose, and a rounded face.

"Yes, Alreich?" Germany asked, looking confused.

"Evacuation orders in place by Raiden. You have to go to the Great Hall."

"Why?"

"Well, the Renwides… they've invaded the Netherworld and Aetherworld." And, from then on, there was no escaping the prophecy that would change the face of the Earth.

**So, this brings chapter ten to a close! Sorry it took so long (and it's really long, the longest of them all), I'd been working on a new story (I still have no idea what to call it)! I'll let you guys sneak a preview of it, then? For the long wait? Also, congrats to Felix Baumgartner, the first skydiver to break the speed of sound!**

_The day managed to start off somewhat peacefully, yet haphazardly, with Germany barking (not yelling, thankfully) for everyone to take their seats and to be quiet. Of course, this was a welcome relief from all of the chaos there had been before the German had arrived and seen the mess they had created. The chaos had mostly consisted of England and France trying to severely harm each other, Italy wailing about the fact that he hadn't had pasta in a long time, America trying to pull England and France apart, China trying to calm everyone down with snacks, Japan quietly standing near the wall, afraid to get involved in the conflict, and Russia seemed to be talking to Latvia, though, from how Latvia trembled, it wasn't a particularly welcome one on Latvia's behalf._

_After everyone had managed to find a spot and partially clean up the conference centre (there was still small plastic wrappers to some candy), the German then began to set strict time limits for each person to present, another time limit to question the person, and when they had (he said it as if the world would explode if this time limit was not adhered to), absolutely had to be done. America quickly tried to get Germany to allow them more time, but only succeeded in capturing about ten minutes, which was about the time it took for the American to wake up each morning. England protested the time limit, calling it "preposterous" and "ridiculous", but Germany told him that he would not, no matter how much bickering, whining, crying, or nonsense there be, change the time limit (in simpler terms, Germany told England that what he said was law, and any more acts of defiance would result in embarrassing blackmail from the picture file on Prussia's phone and expulsion from the meeting)._

"_Who wishes to start?" the German said, looking at the group of tired nations with a raised eyebrow. He clearly did not think this meeting was worth his time. It, quite possibly, wasn't even worth putting up with each of the Italians, both of whom could quite easily give him a headache._

_The group looked at him dolefully, some starting to develop an interest with the eraser shavings on their paper and the smooth wooden table. America was happily doodling small T-Rex skeletons on his napkin, Italy was, as usual, sleeping, Japan quietly sat in his chair with his hands in his lap, France was flirtingly winking at one of the attendants, China was scribbling down some notes in Chinese, and Russia… well, Russia seemed to be staring off into space, quietly stating that the lights looked like sunflowers if he stared at them long enough._

"_Not me," England muttered, crossing his arms while a cup of steaming tea cooled down. Greece glared at Turkey as he threw a paper wad (which sneakily enclosed a pebble-sized iron weight) at the Turk. Switzerland polished his gun, while Liechtenstein sat next to him, occasionally asking if she could pet one of Greece's many cats, to which Switzerland would reply that the cats were evil, and they could conceal poisonous fangs or deadly claws. After that, she went on to try and pick a small, yet complex lock her brother had given her with a bobby pin. Austria worked on composing his symphony, Hungary sitting next to him and saying that he was a musical genius. Romano hissed an Italian curse at Spain for being "too close", while Spain simply smiled and said that he looked adorable when he was mad._

"_England, you go first," Germany finally said, concealing a slight smirk on his face as he took his seat next to Italy. The look on England's face was one of murderous intent._

"_You bastard..." England hissed softly, glaring icily at Germany as he pulled open his briefcase in the seeming futile search for the collection of papers needed for the meeting._

_As England finally found the papers and celebrated silently, America passed down the small drawing of the T-Rexes to Germany and asked if it looked good. Germany passed it back, shrugging, saying that he could barely draw a "stick figure". Japan quietly pulled out a GameBoy and started playing Pokémon, the unmistakable tune catching the American's attention._

"_Is that Pokémon?" America quietly asked Japan. Japan looked up briefly, then returned back to the game, the lights turning the color of his face shades of green, blue, orange, and yellow._

"_Yes," Japan replied._

"_Which version?"_

"_Soul Silver."_

"_Ah, dude, I loved that version!"_

"_America, you bloody git, focus for once!" England harshly reprimanded._

"_Lend it to me some time," America quickly whispered, before turning back to England._

"_Everyone knows what this meeting's about, correct?" England said, sounding quite bored. The other nations, who were too preoccupied with whatever they were doing, looked up, expecting England to repeat what he had just said._

_England sighed, more annoyed than tired. "The topic of the meeting?"_

_There were murmurs of agreement; they all knew what the meeting was about. _

"_Alright, then, you know its science. As Germany," he shot an icy glare across the room at Germany, before returning back to shuffling his papers, "said, we have this meeting every half year (or even every three months, depending on if there were any major scientific breakthroughs) on the birthday of the hosting nation (even if it is false, in some cases), to discuss major topics of science, advancements, and any knowledge or hypotheses we might have about these problems."_

"_Sure," America said, starting to draw a rather precise triceratops skeleton alongside of the T-Rex ones. "Cancer, AIDS, sickle cell, autism, and all of the other diseases we have. Parasites, mutations, bacteria, virus, and fungi." America looked up, his blue eyes peering over the rims of his glasses. "Or, is it general science this year, and not medical science? Last year, it dealt with astronomy and what-not, right? This one isn't about water or earth sciences?"_

"_Correct," England replied, with a raised eyebrow. "Now, this year's meeting is based on medical sciences. For those who don't know (I don't know how you couldn't know), medical science is the advancement in the study of diseases (pathology) and ways to combat the diseases through better medicine. This includes lab-made ones, herbal ones, or even surgery and other variations. Any questions?"_

_America's hand shot up, and before England could even talk, he began, "I heard there was this parasite that lived in rats' brains, and they literally controlled the rat and made it get eaten by cats. Is it true?"_

"_Yes," Germany replied, pulling a manila folder out of his black suitcase, opening it and flipping through several pages before stopping at one. "_Toxoplasma gondii._ About one third to half of the world population has it."_

"_Does it affect us at all?"_

"_Slightly. There is a chance it can affect patients with depression and those that have a dopamine deficiency disorder, such as ADD and ADHD, though more research is needed."_

"_Dude…" America quietly said. "That's so cool…"_

"_It isn't if you're a rat."_

"_Talking about mice and rats," Japan said, "Germany, you mentioned a study where they implanted light-sensitive chemicals and a fiber-optic into a mouse's brain. Correct?"_

"_I know what you're talking about!" America said, sounding almost prideful and awed at the same time. "They could control the mouse through the fiber-optic cable and this laser that was mounted on their head. It was so cool, you should've seen it!"_

"_We should have," England muttered. "Back to the topic. This time, the meeting will centre around something that always manages to stir up controversy everywhere."_

_All of the nations stared at him curiously._

"_Cloning."_


	11. Chapter 11

**Alright, so, eleventh chapter! WOOO! We are quite close to hitting the grand **_**one thousand **_**milestone! Awesome, guys! So, as always, reviewer shoutout! (Sorry I took so long; again, tumblr, my other story [about the cloning thingily; it shall be named either **_**Changed **_**or **_**Яеvеяses**_**], Word eating my document, and other things… so that pushed things back!) **_**So very close to hitting one thousand! Only five more to go!**_

**Starship Artisan: Well, if you do scream, kick, and cry, make sure not to do it near anything expensive, 'kay? Other than that, **_**danke (arigatou, grazie), **_**bro! **

**And, we can now add Mexico to the list (welcome to the brotherhood)! Thanks guys, and keep it up! **

"_War is not a life: it is a situation,_

_One which may neither be ignored nor accepted,_

_A problem to be met with ambush and stratagem,_

_Enveloped or scattered."_

_-T.S. Eliot._

It was almost amazing, in a sort of macabre way; how, one second, the castle had been utterly quiet, and, the next second, the sound reached deafening levels. How, one second ago, no one stirred in the castle, but now, everyone was scurrying about, barking orders to others, gathering things, and, most of all, hurrying the artifacts from the museum to the Great Hall. And, one second ago, feathers from oversized birds (in the flurry of feathers, there were owls, falcons and hawks, and raptors, to which America took delight in pointing out, as one looked like a bald eagle) hadn't been brushing at their cheeks. And, neither had Italy been wailing so much, or anyone so scared.

"Take this!" one man quickly said, tossing a sword at Germany, who just managed to catch it in time before it impaled him. Another person tossed gloves, another handed him a helmet, a chest plate, boots, leggings… it was as if they wanted to see him dressed up as a knight. Except, he wasn't off to slay a dragon, or save a princess. The Conqueror of Death was the dragon, and the princess was Earth. If he failed… there was no repeat. No one could simply start the entire story all over again with a flick of a page. It was repeatedly stressed, over and over again: if Germany made a single mistake, everyone and everything could die.

A bright blue soaring overhead caught America's attention. "Whoa, dude, look at—"

"This is no time to be gawking!" Germany harshly snapped, glaring at America as he put the helmet on. The helmet was plumed with bright red feathers, looking similar to the Roman-style ones. It was clear the helmet was made of an iron-like metal, with black swirls painted on it. Metal flaps covered his ears, and a tinted visor (it looked to be glass; it probably wasn't, though) partially blotted his eyes.

"Germany!" Italy cried, tugging at Germany's sleeve. "W-what's going on?!"

"Nothing you need to be concerned about, Italy." Germany pulled Italy's hand off, turned to England, and said, "Take him elsewhere. It isn't safe here."

"But—"

"Go!"

Italy shook his head, tears streaking down his cheeks. "No."

Germany sighed. "Italy? Remember when America would try to scare you, and I would tell you to go to another room?"

Italy nodded.

"It's… kind of like that right now. You need to go somewhere else. There's going to be things going on that might scare you."

"B-but—"

"I promise, I'll be back."

"S-swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die if I tell a single lie. Deal?"

Italy quietly nodded. "O-okay."

Germany turned back to England. "Take him somewhere else. The rest of you—make yourself useful. Somehow." Germany turned and marched off, soon disappearing into the flurry of feathers.

"What did Germany want us to do?" America asked, as a feather fell down on his head.

"Help, but, with you, I'm afraid you'd break something," England muttered, picking a white feather off his shirt. "I'd just say come along with me, and you'll help everyone by keeping Italy quiet."

America sighed. "Fine?" He looked up, and asked, "Where's Russia?"

England looked back, and realized Russia was missing. "Where the hell is he?"

"We'll find him sooner or later, won't we?" Prussia said. "Not that I want to."

America glared at Prussia. "I really didn't want you at camp either."

"Pff! Who wouldn't want the awesome—"

"Both of you, shut up!" Hungary snapped. "Do you realize we're under attack?!" Just then, a low rumbling sound echoed through the air, and some dust and stone pebbles rained down.

"What was that?!"

Austria quietly looked up, then at America. "I believe the enemy is attacking the roof. We should do as Germany said, and leave. The roof's bound to collapse soon."

"You're optimistic," America muttered.

"I'm being realistic. What point do you see in being happy during war?"

"Enough!" Hungary said. "We need to go!" She grabbed Austria by the cuff of his sleeve and started to drag him through the crowd.

"Wait!" Italy cried, running after Hungary. "Wait for me!"

"Get back here!" England snapped, chasing after Italy, China following after. "Germany said—" he was cut off by an unearthly moan, as the palace shook, dust and stone bits raining down.

America quickly glanced at Prussia, Japan, and France, the latter of the two's hair coated with dust. "We need to go."

"You think?!" Prussia snapped. More dust and stone rained down. The floor shifted underneath them.

"Now!" America said, grabbing Prussia's and France's hands and sprinting after Hungary, Japan trailing behind. Dust clouded the air, and the floor felt like gravel, what with all of the stone chips that had fallen. Something thundered against the walls, and bright red flickers clawed at the windows, America taking a moment to realize the palace was ablaze. Briefly, America saw someone peering through the window, though it was for only a fraction of a second. The ceiling shook rather frequently, raining down pebbles and dust.

The palace shook more violently. Large slabs of stone started to break away from the ceiling. Flames started to leap onto the silk tapestries that hung on the walls. Smoke clung to the ceilings, shrouding it out like a cloak. Several times, America had to take another path due to the hallway being a dead end. Smoke choked some of the narrower hallways, filtering out into the larger ones that America tried to use as often as he could.

It was a welcome relief a few minutes later when he finally found Austria and Hungary, standing in the midst of a high-ceilinged room. The roof had yet to collapse, though cracks had started to develop in it.

Both Austria and Hungary were in the same condition. Charcoal stained their faces, and Austria was coughing rather violently. Italy had dirt smudged on his face, edging closer to Hungary, while England was left off to the side, trying to rub a rather stubborn stain off of his cheek.

"Found Russia?" America asked, stopping about six feet from Hungary.

Hungary shook her head. "No. We have no idea where he is."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

America sighed. "Where the hell could he be?"

* * *

_Russia awoke to the sound of water dropping down from the ceiling. Was it leaking? No, it wasn't; he presumed it was raining, though the water fell slowly, not in the torrent he expected. _

_Uneasily pushing himself to his feet, he gazed around the landscape that stood before him. No trees were in sight, nor anyone or anything that could have helped to identify the place. Just a flat landscape, which stretched on for eternity. The sky was an eerie white, the land a greyish-black in colour. _

_How… how did he even get here? He last thing he remembered was being at the palace, before… blacking out, for lack of a better word. Where was he now? The Netherworld? Japan had said the Netherworld looked similar to this… but something told Russia this wasn't the Netherworld. A feeling of dread and fear told him he was somewhere much worse. _

_Haunting music played somewhere in the distance, the eerie music sending chills up Russia's spine. He did not want to be here at all; even America, who proclaimed he could handle any haunted place, would have been scrambling to find a way out. A crow shrieked overhead, only intensifying the creepy atmosphere. _

_Somewhere, he could hear wind howling, despite there being no breeze of any sort. Snow blinded some parts of the area from view, it falling in sporadic gusts; other parts of the landscape were blotted out with forests, unexpected cracks from falling trees ringing in the air. The snowy area looked slightly more peaceful and pleasant than the other areas did. Besides, he was rather used to the cold; it wouldn't bother him._

_Setting off for the snow-covered land, Russia vaguely heard something creaking, and, just as he was about to take another step forward, a massive tree came falling down, sending shock waves through the ground. It appeared to be a European silver fir, though it was questionable how a tree could even grow here, or even how it managed to fall here; there was no sunlight, and the tree strayed far off from the forest. _

_Just as he was about to set off for the wintry land again, something slowly started rising from the tree. It definitely looked humanoid; pale skin, longer legs and arms than average, even the same build as a human. Oddly, it was wearing a formal business suit. Though, it wasn't a human at all, something that would become obvious when it faced Russia._

_Simply put, it had no face. Pits and indentures were in place where the details were supposed to be; dents for the eye sockets, rectangular pits for cheekbones… hadn't Germany told Russia about something that was similar to this? Der Ritter and Der Großmann? _

_The very thing Germany had said to fear at all costs was standing right in front of Russia._

* * *

"Still haven't found Russia?" someone asked, and America turned to see Germany, who, what with all of the armor, truly did look like a knight. Much of the armor, save for the sabatons and gauntlets, was hidden behind a white surcoat, which had a crimson iron cross emblazoned on it. At his side hung a sword and shield, both made either out of iridium or titanium. The seeable armor shined and glistened in the light.

America shook his head. "No idea in Hell where he is."

"He couldn't have gone far."

"True, but you went pretty far where you are now from where you last were."

"In my room? If that's a huge distance for you… I pity to see you when we have to walk kilometer after kilometer through winter and swamps."

"We're going to have to!?"

"Possibly." He glanced at America, who looked particularly horrified, and said, "It's not much different from the bayou or the Everglades."

"The Everglades have crocodiles and alligators!"

"Then you'll be happy to know there won't be any."

As America breathed a sigh of relief, Germany added, "Never said it was going to be better."

"Wait… what do you mean by that?"

"Meaning, you won't have to walk alongside crocodiles or alligators, per se."

"What the fuck are you implying?!"

"He means," England said, "you might have to walk with something worse than an alligator."

"What could be worse than an alligator?" America asked. "They try to rip your arms off or suffocate and drown you!"

"Maybe these things will try to rip your organs out and eat them," Germany said. "While you're still alive."

"…Did your brother ever drop you on your head?"

"Austria would do that," Prussia remarked. "Not me! West is perfectly fine!"

"You sure?"

"I still have those pictures from the party," Germany said, glaring at Prussia. "Keep talking, and I'll mail them to every nation."

Prussia sighed. "Normally, it's the older brother that bosses the smaller one around."

"Normally, the older brother is taller than the younger one and less obnoxious."

Prussia grinned. "You're just jealous."

"Of what? Your rather surprising collection of teddy bears?"

"You collect teddy bears?" America asked, restraining laughter. "Really?"

"They're adorable!" Prussia retorted. "Besides, they keep Gilbird company!"

"I thought it was because you liked to curl up with them at night," Germany muttered.

"That is not it!"

"Really? Tell me, how do the bears magically get onto your bed at night?—and do not say 'England did it'!"

Prussia pointed a finger at his younger brother. "I'll get you back."

"When was the last time you exacted vengeance against me?"

"The party!"

"That plan backfired as badly as England's attempt to curse America."

"Russia got in the way! Again!" England snapped.

"Still… did anyone see Russia on the way down?" America asked.

The ceiling noticeably shifted, starting to buckle in the middle and raining down dust. "I don't believe so…"

America turned to Japan, who had been oddly quiet the entire time. "You were the last person out, right?"

Japan nodded. "Second last."

"Did you see Russia?"

Japan sighed and shook his head. "No; the ceiling buckled, and I believe he was trapped behind it."

Germany rested his hand against the hilt of his sword. "I don't believe you're correct."

Everyone turned toward Germany, a look of confusion present on their faces.

"What do you mean?" England asked.

"Meaning, when the first attack happened, it was at the northward bulwark. We were at the southwest wing. This city spans at least two kilometers from each end."

"You believe Japan is lying?" Austria asked.

"Possibly. Or…"

"Or what?"

"It's an incredibly difficult thing to do, but… perhaps…" Germany shook his head. "No… someone wouldn't go through that much work to do this…"

"Do what?"

Germany sighed. "It's a fairly new and incredibly twisted concept. It works similar to that of a wormhole, except on Earth. Someone, somehow, managed to create a type of portal, then collapsed the roof. In short, it was set up."

"And someone wanted Russia," Hungary said. "But who?"

"More questionably, why? What did Russia have that made him valuable?"

"Same reason someone would want Italy," Austria said. "Or anyone."

"So… leverage?" Prussia asked. "For once in a lifetime, you said something that was actually plausible."

"Did Russia say anything at all that seemed… odd?" Germany asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Did Russia say anything, even in his sleep, that was odd? Something that seemed odd of him to know?"

"No…why?" America asked.

Germany sighed. "Never mind. Besides, we need to leave." Just then, the ceiling shook more, and the middle buckled even more, spilling out more dust and stone.

"Again?"

"Outside, now." Germany ushered them along, towards a door which smoke blew in, Italy happily trotting alongside of him. America lingered back some, walking along with Italy.

"Why did you want to know what he said?" America asked.

"You know how war works, America," Germany said. "You want to eliminate those that are both hostile and well-informed about you. Correct?"

"Yeah, but what does that—wait. You think… someone was targeting Russia?"

"Certainly plausible."

"But, they—I mean, the enemy—didn't know about—"

"About me? Actually, they did."

"But…how?"

"I don't know. But, I knew that they understood how much I knew. They knew I was a threat. Prussia and Russia were probably threats as well, though I don't know why. They may even target Japan, you, or England. But, they're far smarter than I had anticipated. They were able to track me. Whether by scent or by technology, I don't know."

"They… _they tracked you?!"_

Germany nodded. "A far-fetched idea, but true. That's also why they stranded us, why they halted time and changed everything. They wanted us to get lost and separated, though, it didn't work as planned, as we still managed to find each other. Had it not been for Alara and Ezexion—the male, by the way—they would have imprisoned you."

"They were tracking us as well?"

"I have reason to believe so. They tracked me, they could track anyone."

"But… why would anyone want Russia? No offence to him, but he really didn't know what was going on."

"Your guess is as good as mine." Germany directed the others down a large hallway, saying that in about two minutes, they would be outside.

"But, still," America said, jogging to catch up with Germany and Italy, "what would they want with Russia?"

"Who knows anymore?"

"…You said they'd go after Japan and I next. Why?"

"Japan? He knows about the Netherworld—"

"How do you know!?" He, himself, had not known about this, until England had told him when they had found each other again.

"This kingdom has many eyes, many of which look to the forest. You just happened to be at a heavily-monitored area."

"Why was it…?"

"Monitored? They'd been picking up strange activity there for the past three months."

"But… it's only been a month… has it?"

"About a month, yes. They'd been here before. Now, they'd be targeting Japan because of what he knew about the Netherworld. They'd target you for the prophecies."

"This—" America pulled out the crumpled-up prophecy, "old thing?"

"Precisely. It holds the key to how the war will play out."

"So… this… this says exactly how the war's going to…"

Germany nodded.

America looked at the crumpled paper. "I've been holding the future in my hands the entire time…"

"That's only the first part."

America looked at Germany, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "There's more?"

"The first part details how the war is going to work out. The second one states the specifics; who's going to join, what events (that hadn't been stated in the first) are going to happen, and what will happen at the end. I've read both, and I carry both."

"Can I… can I see the second?" The ceiling rumbled, spilling out more dust.

"Not at the moment, no. When we get outside, perhaps."

America remembered back to what Germany had said. "…Why would they target England?"

"Because, he's had prior experience navigating the Netherworld."

"He has?"

"In trying to find specific ingredients and trying to banish people there."

America restrained a laugh. How like England, to banish someone elsewhere so he wouldn't have to look elsewhere.

"But," Germany added, "there's another reason why they would want him."

"What?"

"Remember when England was talking that one day? When that green mist…"

"Came out of his suitcase? Yeah, why?" He remembered England had been carrying a crystal ball, so that he could freak everyone out by being to allegedly tell the future. It turned out that the thing had been enchanted somehow, and that it could see into the future, though only a year in advance.

"Remember what had happened next?"

"Yeah… why?"

"They—they enemy—consider that to be a vision. England could be deemed as a seer (or oracle, whichever you prefer) to them."

"But… they want you the most. Why?"

"Because, I'll be the one to change everything."

"What do you—"

"Meaning, if they capture me, they can change the course of history. If they manage to…"

"What'll happen?"

"In short, if they manage to capture me, you'll have no Earth to return to."

* * *

_Russia could barely breathe; the air seemed to freeze in his throat. He could barely move; fear rooted himself in place. His heart sounded like a thunderous drum, pounding incessantly, trying to tell Russia to run, that the thing in front of him would kill him. But, he couldn't move. All he could do was stare in fright at the creature that stood before him. _

_The creature leered at him, the pale, featureless face inches away from Russia's. Der Großmann, possibly one of Germany's worst childhood fears, stood before Russia. _

_Before he knew it, Russia was running as fast as he could, bolting for the snowy world, hoping against hope that the thing would not get him, that he'd make it to the wintry place safely. How… how did the thing even exist!? Germany had said it was a fairy tale! Had he lied to Russia? Why would he lie?_

_Russia couldn't hear anything behind him. Had the thing stopped chasing him that quickly? Had it even been chasing him? Curiously, but only for a second, Russia looked back—and his heart nearly stopped._

_The creature looked even closer than before, though the thing hadn't even moved. How…how…?_

_Forcing himself to look ahead, Russia kept running, afraid that if he stopped, he would never come back out of this place, his breath coming in shorter and shorter puffs. The wintry land kept getting closer, its cool breath blowing over the ground and forming frost. Stray, dusty dots of snow floated out of the place, brushing at his cheeks and entangling in his hair. The crunch of twigs and leaves soon faded away, replaced with the crunch of snow. Soon, he could no longer see the land the creature roamed, obscured by the frozen trees in the wintry land, and he began to slow down. The lower half of his pants was soon damp from the melted snow that blanketed the land. _

_Far ahead, Russia saw a sliver of black, which soon darted away as soon as it had appeared. What was that? Maybe it had been a person! Someone that could get him out, or, at least, tell him where he was!_

_Feeling optimistic, Russia chased after the black slivers, winding deeper and deeper into the forest. Several times, he came upon his own tracks, and, in a moment of confusion, had lost the trail of the strange black strips. He would then have to run off in the direction he thought he saw the strips in until he came across again. Several times, he repeated this, until he finally tracked down the slivers, down to an iced-over pond, the flowered lilies frozen in place. Green plants still lined the pond, and the trees still had leaves. It was as if during spring, winter had blown back in, freezing everything back over. _

_But, the black slivers hadn't been part of a crow, as Russia had first thought. Instead, the black slivers had been a part of long, flowing hair that contrasted sharply against a long, white kimono that nearly blended into the ground._

_As if they had been waiting for Russia, the person turned, facing him with a light smile. After seeing the other thing—Der Großmann, to be exact—anything that didn't look like it was a welcome sight. She had slight, slanted eyes (which were a smoky blue in colour), with pale, near translucent skin, and, oddly, pale blue lips. She stood at about five feet and eight inches tall (1.73 meters), her hair reaching down to her mid-back. Her hands were hidden in the wide sleeves of her kimono, apparently to keep them warm._

"_Hello," the woman said happily. She cocked her head slightly, and asked, "What are you doing here, in the Aptherworld?"_

"_Oh, err… I really don't know, actually…"_

"_You… don't know?" the woman took a step closer. "Why not?"_

"_Well… I was at the—what do you call it?—Material Realm? I think that's it…"_

_The woman stepped forward again. "How did you end up here?"_

"_I-I really don't know that either…" _

_The woman stepped closer. "What's your name?"_

"_Ah, Ivan…"_

_The woman smiled. "My name's Yuki Onna." She stepped even closer, Russia finally noticing her strides were rather long, and that, in two more steps, she would be standing right in front of him. "You seem to like the cold. Why?"_

"_I-I don't particularly like it, but—" another step forward, "I-I'm more or less used to it. Why?"_

"_Most people despise the cold," Yuki said, taking another step forward, pulling her hands out of her sleeves. "Why are you… drawn to it?"_

"_I-I'm really not, actually, but… it's easier to cope with, right?"_

_Yuki shrugged. "I wouldn't know." She looked back up at Russia. "You seem tired. Perhaps you should rest, and then I'll guide you out."_

_Russia considered the deal. He didn't exactly trust the woman, but, he was a nation; whatever she did, she couldn't kill him. Still… he didn't feel tired at all…._

"_I think I would… rather…" The world blurred in and out of focus; Russia tried to stay balanced, though his efforts failed, swaying back and forth as everything blurred even more. "….try to…." Why did he feel so tired suddenly? Why was he…_

"_You should lay down, Ivan," Yuki softly said, half-forcing and half-helping Russia lay down on the pillow-like snow. "I'll wake you up in the morning."_

_Russia barely caught the last part, as he fell into a deep sleep, the snow gently falling down on him. He never heard Yuki say, maliciously, "You should sleep… forever."_

**And I apologise yet again for the delayed chapter! Sorry, bros, but those quick updates are gone (at least, until Christmas break)! It'll take about a week, maybe even two weeks, for chapters to get out! School, homework, family stuff, and many other things get in the way! So, if you guys could be patient, I would love that! So, as always, review, favourite, follow, lurk in cyberspace, whatevs (that word is now in Oxford… think)!**

**For back story on everything, Der Großmann (also called Der Ritter) is basically a Slenderman-type creature that was said to live in the Black Forest of Germany (hence the silver fir, as they grow in the Black Forest). Yuki Onna is a Japanese spirit that would appear on snowy nights as a beautiful woman, sometimes in a white kimono (other times, she would be naked… I'm not describing that, guys). She's often portrayed as a villain, said to lead travelers astray and let them die of exposure, or to simply freeze them. Sometimes, however, she can be nice.**

**So, some of you guys might have gotten confused with the entire knight-armor-thing (I'll just give you the entire vocabulary, because it might come up in later chapters). Cuisses are a piece of armor to protect the thigh. Poleyns are a piece for the knee. Greaves are, basically, pieces of armor for the shin, or the area from the ankle to the knees. Sabatons are, essentially, boots, armor to protect the feet. Rerebraces are pieces of armor to protect the upper arm. Vambraces protect the forearm, while gauntlets are basically gloves, or (if you want to be fancy) pieces of armor for the hands. Chest armor is pretty straightforward, as is head armor. The surcoat was worn over a knight's armor to identify them from one side. It's similar to numbers assigned to different people; all the people with the same number belong to the same side. **


	12. Chapter 12

**So, this is chapter twelve! So… there has been, as of current, 1,137 views! **_**Danke!**_** (Sorry for the badly-overdue update; I've been working on yet another story, this one mostly about espionage, murder, and a crime ring!) And, if you've commented, as always… (well, four of you guys reviewed, and I PMed two of you, as you were offering suggestions and questions.)**

**EternalEnergy: …I really don't know how I came up with that idea, honestly. I was typing it, then "Germany should be a knight." And, of course, he had to be a knight (plus, I think he'd look pretty awesome as a knight). But, I was looking up knight armor on Google, because I'd forgotten the name of one part, and I came across this website all about it, so that really helped out. **

**ApostolicShadowNinjaGirl: I was actually not thinking about that…. But, now that you've brought it up, then, yes! It is very ironic! (Prussia would probably be very proud; his little brother, following in his footsteps!)**

**Sadly, no new countries have joined the Brotherhood. But, really, guys, that's still a lot of countries (and I'm very happy about it). **

"_Morality is contraband in war."_

_-Mohandas K. Gandhi-_

The sounds and colours of war were rife in the air: cannon shots and bombs exploding, sending magnificent sparks into the night air; the sound of metal against metal, metal on stone, and, sometimes, the agonizing cry as a soldier was struck down with a final, resounding blow that echoed through the air (at least to Germany, it did; he knew many of those that fought and fell); blood spattered the pearl white ground and stained the mortar that held the cracked stones together; discarded armor littered the ground, clinking with every attack on the roof (parts of which had already collapsed, sending up white plumes of dust that hung in the air); black smoke curled into the sky, the crimson flames below grabbing at the charcoal smoke; war horses, covered from head to hooves in armor, galloped down the streets and halls, snorting and rearing up at the harsh explosions that ripped through the air.

Germany leaned against one of the more sturdy walls, a cut against his cheek and some blood splotching his surcoat. Each time sparks flew into the air or a bomb nearby exploded, the light would catch his armor, highlighting the blood that pooled in and clung to the crevices of it. His sword hung in its sheath, blood dripping steadily off of it. His sword hand (which happened to be his right hand) was bandaged, blood starting to seep through the linen.

The rest of the nations huddled together in a group, jumping at the bomb explosions that frequently struck the roofing and buildings. Prussia stood beside of Germany, trying to persuade his brother to let him come along next time they went somewhere, but Germany's answer was the same: no, Prussia could not come along, and if they did let him, they would be in more trouble than it was worth to bring the nosy man along. Even though Germany left out the last part, the part that was truer than what he let on; that, if he did bring Prussia, he would somehow get hurt, and he wouldn't let that happen unless it was absolutely necessary.

"C'mon, West!"

"What was my answer last time?"

"No, but—"

"My answer will stay as no. A hundred no's equals a no."

"I'm your older brother!"

"And? That doesn't equal anything!"

"I have more war experience!"

"You may have more experience," Germany softly said, as another bomb went off, the booming sound startling everyone, "but, that experience is against humans and nations. You're hopeless if you think you'll stand a chance against these creatures."

"Like they're any different! You can still kill them!"

Germany turned towards his brother, his eyes narrowed. "They're not any different, hmm? So, humans are a good two meters tall, at least, have claws at least a third of their size, and leave you half-burnt somewhere, impaled on a tree, barely alive with blood everywhere? I don't think so."

Another bomb exploded, though no one jumped.

After what felt like an eternity, Prussia finally said, "But… you said…"

"_I lied._ Why is that so shocking?"

"B-but, you're—_why did you lie?"_

"Because, some people don't like hearing about other's gruesome misfortune, do they? It makes them sick."

"Why now?" America asked, turning to Germany. "Why tell us that now?"

Germany shrugged. "To let you know we're up against something less… civil."

"That's obvious," China said, "considering you said they'd disembowel you."

"Exactly. Your worst nightmare tends to pale in comparison to what atrocities might be committed during this war."

"We can already tell yours has," Japan quietly said.

"Sadly. For the rest of you, I suggest you get an iron gut and abandon your nightmares. Having those will only make the war harder to win and your own experience ten times worse."

"And… what of yours?" Austria politely asked.

"Mine? To say the least, from what I've seen already… this war will be hellish, brutal, and, the most obvious, bloody."

China sighed. "What makes this war any different from the other ones we've waged? It'll be more bloody and gruesome, but still the same concept. We'll be fighting against a common enemy… right?"

"Exactly. Except, you'll have to learn how to fight with new weapons and utilize everything that's given to you. In most wars, we're blessed with an even fighting field, or a greater one in favor of us, food supplies, and adequate weapons. Here, it won't be even, tending to tip in favor of the enemy. Even though we're more advanced than the enemy, we have less weapons, less hand-to-hand combat, and less soldiers. And…"

"And what?"

"Learn how to steel your heart against others. If you do not love anyone, the enemy cannot use them against you. If no one loves you, you cannot be used against anyone. Learn to entrust your life with only yourself. There will be traitors, or, as America likes to call them, Benedict Arnolds. We never know who's a traitor and who isn't."

"Harsh."

"You can call it that. You can ignore all of my advice and suffer through the war, or you can listen to me and save yourself from self-destruction. Got it?"

"'Self-destruction'?" America asked, a confused look on his face.

"The enemy will be hard to kill. If you cannot destroy them, humans tend to turn upon themselves, the only thing they can destroy. And, typically, this doesn't apply to us. But, in this war, it just might."

"Lovely," Prussia muttered. "Fucking lovely. And what next?"

"What next? Let's see… three people have to die, there are two traitors, and the last to die will affect everyone."

"So…it… it can be any of us?"

"Any of us."

Everyone glanced around the group unsurely, wondering who would die. Three had to die… who would be it?

* * *

"_Sir," a voice said. _

"_Alhasser, give me a good reason as to why you are not working," the man hissed, swinging a light, yet sturdy sword about, relishing the light _swish_ it made as it cleaved through the air. How lovely it would sound when it cleaved through necks and limbs. _

"_The invasions, sir… the Aetherworld is near collapsed, but the Netherworld…"_

"_What of it?"_

"_It's… not falling as easily."_

"_And why would that be? Because you're not leading the army?"_

"_No! I put Lahara in charge!"_

"_Then why hasn't the Netherworld fallen yet?"_

"_They're putting up a stronger fight than we anticipated… so far, an eighth of our army is gone, while a twelfth of the Netherworld's army is gone."_

"_We're losing? To an idiot, an antisocialist, and an air-headed twit?"_

"_Hades isn't as airheaded as you think he is, sir. He only shows his true colours in times like these."_

_The man sighed. "Anything else?"_

"_The Necroworld, sir. A mortal's made it there."_

_The man stopped almost immediately, shocked by the news. How? How could anyone have made into his homeland, the Necroworld? How could he have even survived the journey there?_

"_We don't know how," Alhasser said, answering the man's question. "A portal, perhaps? But, he hasn't caused any damage there; he might actually be dead."_

"_Yuki Onna got to him?"_

"_Perhaps."_

_The man shook his head. "No. He couldn't have gotten there via portal. There're only two people that know how to open a portal to there."_

"_Who are…?"_

"_Myself, and… our traitorous friend."_

"_Arkweir? But, he isn't—"_

"_Actually, he is. Find the man and kill him. Spare no mercy for others in finding him. I don't care if you have to kill thousands, you will find him."_

"_Yes, sir." Alhasser turned to leave._

"_Before you go…"_

"_What, sir?"_

"_Don't call me sir. Call me Arzen."_

* * *

The group waited nervously, in fearful silence, for Germany to come back. For some reason, a regal-looking person—who Germany said was the ruler, Raiden—said that Germany was needed in Western Sector Five of the city (which Raiden said was named Illistra) to help fend off the new wave of attackers. So far, the group had been forced to relocate to Western Sector Four, after several close encounters with the attackers left everyone paranoid, even though there were three guards with them.

"Is Germany alright?" Italy asked.

"He should be," England said. "Germany's not easily hurt."

"You forget he said three of us would die," France pointed out.

"We're immortal," America said. "There's no way we can die."

"Technically, we are," Austria said. "But, not in the sense that we will never die. We can still die, just on different terms."

"Thank you for cheering us up."

"I don't aim to cheer up. I aim to inform you of the truth."

"Can you fake being hopeful for the time being?" Prussia asked.

"Germany never specified it had to be us," China said. "He merely said it could be us. It could be anyone he knew."

"If that's the case," Hungary said, "then they've over exceeded the amount by about a hundred, or a thousand."

"I doubt we'll die," America said. "Right?"

"There's always a chance," England said. "A chance. Not a huge one, but still one."

"More than likely, we'll live, Italy," China said. "Don't worry about Germany. He'll live."

Italy nodded. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Absolutely sure?"

"One hundred percent sure, Italy."

"Screw one hundred percent," America said, "we're a thousand percent sure. Wait!—_we're a hundred thousand percent sure_!"

"B-but… what if he does?" Italy asked.

"It won't happen. We'll protect each other with our lives, and that includes Germany. There's no way we'll let him die! Got it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Still," England said, "how come Germany was called over there?"

"An attack there," France replied. "Why?"

"Well, did anyone see anything going on over there?"

America looked back at Western Sector Five. Smoke billowed up, but America couldn't see anyone.

"No," he said, turning to England, "why?"

"Well, if they didn't need him, why did the—"

England was cut off by a loud crack of thunder, as rain started pouring down.

"Great," France muttered.

"You have better things to worry about than your hair, France," Prussia said, pulling up his coat collar.

France sighed.

"Joy," England said sarcastically. "Summer."

"But, still, why did they call him over there?" America asked. "There's nothing going on other than a fire."

"Hell if I know," England said.

"They must have their reasons," Austria said. "Everything has a reason."

"So there's a reason why you're an idiot?" Prussia piped. "Or is that one of the great mysteries of the Earth?"

"Prussia, I swear to God, if you keep this up, I'll kick you so hard, you won't walk straight for a month!" Hungary threatened.

"Oh! So scary!" Prussia mocked. "Girlie, I've heard the same thing for the past few centuries from you. There's a difference between the threatening type and the acting type. You're not the acting type."

"So I was only threatening when you got on the receiving end of a frying pan, hmm?"

"Guys, be quiet," America snapped.

"Why?"

"One, I told you to. Two, we're trying to discuss something. Three, we're in the middle of a war, and Germany could be—"

"He isn't," England quickly said. "He could be hurt, but he isn't dead."

"Then who will be dead?" Austria asked.

America sighed. "Who knows? We can guess, but we have a slim shot at being correct."

"Then we'll ask something simple," Hungary said. "Who thinks they're going to die?"

Everyone shyly raised their hands. Even Prussia, after a moment's hesitation.

"That's nice," Hungary said, lowering her hand in unison with everyone else. "We all think we're dead men."

"But it doesn't answer the question," China said. "Only three can die. We can't all die."

"Then six of us will have our wish granted, and three of us won't."

"What about Germany-san and Russia-san?" Japan asked.

"What about them?"

"Well… aren't they part of the group?"

"So…" America said quietly, to where Italy couldn't hear. "There's a chance of them dying."

"We might have lied to Italy," Japan said.

* * *

_He remembered when he first met her. He had been working with his father on an art project when she had passed by. Of course, this had been before the Great War, the one between his people and her people. The one between the Renwides and Janxes._

_The art project had been commissioned by the leader, Alcharea, who had wanted it to symbolize the peace between the Renwides and the Janxes, and partly to entertain his son, Raiden. Alcharea was nearing the fifty year old milestone, while his son was close to ruling age, being seventeen._

_Then, his father had barked at him to keep his eyes where they should be, and not on the petty girl._

_But, not even he could have foretold what would happen next._

_The two became close friends; it seemed that they never parted from each other's sides. They always played games, goofed about, and did everything that other children did together. They painted, wrestled, acted like idiots together… they did almost everything together._

_Alara. That had been her name. The one that had burned itself into his brain, the one that left an aching hole in his heart. _

_And, finally, he had told her his name. Arkweir. The name he despised to no ends. The one his father also hated. The one his mother had given him, before she had died when he was barely two weeks old._

_Then, she, Alara, had given him a new name. And a new life. _

_Jonas. No one could have anticipated how much controversy Jonas would bring up, nor how much pain and suffering would be uncovered. Or how much pain would be inflicted upon others because of Jonas. No one knew._

_No one knew except for the man that had been waiting for his brother. _

_And, today, he was going to pay him a visit._

* * *

"That's not good at all," China said.

"No, not really," America said. "You know how badly Italy handles lies."

"Exactly. And we know how close he is to Germany. If Germany did…"

"He'd never forgive us, and he'd never forget it. Would he?"

"No, he wouldn't."

"What about Prussia?" France asked, glancing at Prussia, who seemed to be sulking.

"I don't know, but it won't be pretty, will it?"

"Considering Germany is his brother, then yes, it wouldn't be fun to witness," Austria said.

China sighed. "Either way, we're going to lose someone we care about. No one can win in this war."

"Well spoken."

"But… why did they call Germany over there?" England asked.

"We don't know why. They had their reasons."

"And?" A crack of thunder ripped through the air, its booming echo soon fading away.

"There's nothing else to it. They had their reason."

"But, clearly, it wasn't a good one."

"What would happen if I died?"

America turned to Prussia, confused. "What?"

"What would happen if I died?" Prussia repeated quietly.

"You'd come back, like everyone else. Why?"

"You sure about that?"

France sighed. "You're not going to die."

"How do you know?"

"Because…"

"Because what?"

"Remember the first rule we made for the group?" France struck a salute, and, in a formal voice, said, _"We, the members of the aptly-named Bad Friends Trio, agree henceforth to protect each other with our very lives. If we fail to do so, we shall be punished as the remainder of the group sees fit."_

After what seemed like an eternity, Prussia slowly nodded.

"See? Friends don't let—"

"Friends die, yes, I know. But, if you're a friend, you'll promise me one thing."

"And what could that be?"

Prussia turned to face France and sighed. "If we're in a situation of death or any kind of trouble, and West and I are in trouble… save him before you save me. Got it?"

"B-but—"

"I don't care. I'm his older brother, and I'll be damned if I outlive him or see him in any trouble I could've prevented! Got it?"

France sighed and nodded. _"Oui."_

"And," America said, "if you're in trouble, or anyone's in trouble, we'll do our best to make sure they get out. Nations fight for nations in this war, got it? We'll fight to keep each other safe. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the nations repeated in unison.

Lightning split across the sky, highlighting the unnaturally black clouds that swirled overhead, the rain that pelted everything, and the city, which was covered with blackish soot marks where explosives had struck it. It was a beautiful city, even in death, even with the flames that consumed it.

"Still," England said, "what about Germany and Russia?"

"Who knows?" America said.

"How different will everything be, then, if they die?"

"Very," France said. "Very, very different."

"Haven't you seen what's going on?" China asked. "It's already different. It'll only be more different."

"So, if we die," America said, "what's our last words?"

"Hmm… let's see… _I'm still gorgeous?"_ France said, grinning.

"Of course you would say that," England muttered.

"Pff," Prussia scoffed. "I can never die. I'm too awesome."

"Prussia's famous last words… right before he died!" America said. "That's like yelling 'I'm alive!' then dying. Irony at its finest."

"Mine would be… _Even the greatest must die someday_," China said poetically. "Or would it be _The brightest flames die the fastest?"_

"_To receive is a great honor, but to give is the greatest honor_," Austria said. "Fitting for the war."

"Hmm… mine would be… _It's Prussia's fault,_" Hungary said, cracking a grin. "_All Prussia's fault."_

"Oh, you wish!" Prussia snapped.

"Alright! Mine would be… _United we stand, divided we fall!"_ America proudly said.

"_Until Death do us part, and in Life we shall unite again,"_ Japan said.

"Italy, yours?" Austria said, nudging Italy with his elbow lightly.

"Oh, erm… well, I don't really have one… but I hope there's pasta and pretty girls and football (soccer) in Heaven!" Italy said.

"England, yours?" America asked, turning to England.

"I'm sure I can say the same for Germany."

"Your quote?"

"_Nihil est immortalis."_

"English?"

"Nothing is immortal."

The group fell silent.

"And this is why you have no friends," Prussia said.

"Coming from the guy that stalks his brother and writes about himself in his diary," England retorted.

"You might want to put some ice on that burn, Prussia," America said, laughing.

"One, I don't stalk my brother. Two, it's called a journal! Three, I don't even have a journal!" Prussia snapped.

"You also said you didn't have teddy bears," Austria said.

"I got them for West when he was little!"

"Sentimental attachment? I'll have to tell Germany that."

"Tell me what?" someone asked, and everyone turned to see Germany striding towards them, rain dropping off of his armor. There were some dents in his chest plate and some blood, but, for the most part, the armor remained unharmed. A new cut bled on Germany's cheek, staining half of his right cheek a bright red.

"That Prussia has a sentimental attachment to teddy bears," Austria said. "He says he got them for you when you were little."

"I only remember one teddy bear I had, and it was named Vanhausser. The poor thing was beat to hell, so I stitched it up. It doesn't live in Prussia's room, if you're asking that."

"I saw five of them."

"Granddad certainly didn't get any."

"Germania? He got a doll for you!" Prussia said. "He didn't get anything for me!"

"Because I was his favourite son. Besides, I didn't like the doll."

"Why not?" Japan asked.

"You try looking at a deformed and red-eyed Rome that has a screwed-up face and a saw-toothed smile. And imagine that staring at you in the middle of the night when you're trying to sleep. Now you know why I didn't like it."

"It disappeared a week later," Prussia said. "What happened to it?"

"I tore its limbs off and threw it into a river with a stake through its heart."

"Violent child," America muttered.

"Are you sure you were justified in doing that?" Japan asked. "I'm sure someone would've liked it."

"Considering I thought it was a vampire, then no, I wasn't violent."

"What happened in Western Sector Five?"

"Army on foot came in. Couldn't save it. The entire sector collapsed. Luckily, everyone had been evacuated, so there were no casualties."

"Anyway, we were discussing our last words if we… y'know… died," America said. "England said yours would be _Nihil est immortalis."_

"_Nothing is immortal? _Good quote, but not mine."

"Then what would yours be?"

"_Life is but a clock, counting down the time we have left on earth, and no one knows when it will strike midnight._ Something like that."

"Why do you always come up with the good quotes?" Prussia asked.

"I'm going to assume you said you could never die."

"How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. Plus, you and France are narcissistic. I can expect the same thing out of both of you."

"You're nice."

"What would Russia's last words be?" China asked.

"Well, the man likes vodka and sunflowers, so it would probably be something about them," Germany said. "Or his sisters."

"Vodka solves everything?" America suggested.

"Life isn't a bed of sunflowers and vodka?" England said.

"No, it'd be something more sentimental," China said. "Something about his sisters."

"I could see him apologizing for dying, actually," France said. "He just seems like the type that would apologize for leaving his sisters behind."

"He does, doesn't he?" Germany said.

A low-flying bird swooped overhead, its bright red feathers brushing over everyone's heads as it soared back into the blackish sky. Strangely, the rider jumped off, landing on the ground with a soft, muffled _thud._ He seemed to be tan, wearing a white t-shirt with black cargo pants and a greyish-black overcoat. Green eyes shined through black, windswept hair. A sword hung at his side, the sheath and hilt having spots of dried blood on it.

Prussia instantly paled.

"Hello," the man said. "Remember Jonas?"

**And this ends chapter twelve! So, any of you remember Arzen? Go back to chapter four if you don't. Jonas? Go back to chapter eight.**

**So, as always, favourite, follow, comment, lurk in cyberspace, or just derp around. **


	13. Chapter 13

**So, chapter thirteen! As of current, there have been 1,258 views! **_**Grazie, grazie! **_**Sorry for the late update, guys! I've been stuck on this chapter for quite a while! I'll probably declare a hiatus. The story won't completely stop, though; there'll still be updates, just very slow ones.**

**Spiritwolfe123: Ah, it's nice to see you reviewing again, chap! Yeah, I'd think France would still proclaim he was still more beautiful than the others, even in death, while Hungary would (jokingly) blame Prussia. (It's one of my head canons that all of the nations were pretty superstitious when they were little, because they had no proof that the thing wasn't real. So, I think some of the Germanics would be terrified of Der Ritter, Russia would be terrified of Baba Yaga, and so on. Another one is that Germany had a teddy bear Prussia gave him when he was little named Vanhausser.)**

**TheDevilMayCare: Well, there will be. I expect this story to get up to about… maybe twenty five chapters? Thirty? Dunno, but there's still a lot more to go before this old tale's blown over.**

"_We are only as good as the men we stand beside of and lend our lives to."_

"Y-you!" Prussia managed to say, stepping back as Jonas stepped forward, his hand resting against the hilt of his blade.

"Yes, me," Jonas lightly replied, as if this were a casual chat. "Who else?"

Germany turned to Prussia. "Is there something I should know?"

"It's the same guy that tried to kill me, West!" Prussia said, not taking his eyes off Jonas.

"Why are you here?!" America snapped, glaring fiercely at Jonas. "What the hell do you want?!"

"Well, I've heard you twits were going against the Dark Empire, eh?"

"The Renwides?" Germany said, drawing out his sword, glancing sideways at Jonas. "Considering they attacked us, then, yes. Why do you care?"

"Well, I thought I could join you guys in the massacre."

"Why would you want to help us?" America asked, spite in his voice.

"Considering they wronged me so many times, on so many levels… it would make any man thirst for vengeance."

"How… how exactly can we trust you?" Germany asked.

"You're going to let him on the team?" Prussia nearly screamed. "West, he tried to _fucking kill me_! You're going to let him—the guy that tried to kill me—have a second chance?!"

"I don't make the decisions, brother, but we need every man we can get in this war," Germany said. "I'm sure you'll understand in the long run."

"What I don't understand is why you would even _consider_ letting him be on the team! West, don't you understand, _he'll try to kill me! _Again!"

"Guards!" Germany yelled.

"West, you can't let him into the group! He'll try to kill everyone! He'll—"

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Clearly, you don't, if you're going to let him—"

"Yes, sir?" one of the guards asked in a gravelly tone.

Germany sighed, then pointed at Prussia. "Take him away."

"Wait, what? West, what are you—_oi! Get your fucking hands off me_!" Prussia snapped, as the guards took him roughly by the arms and began to drag him away, towards the badly damaged castle. _"West, you can't fucking do this to me! I'm your brother! West! WEST!"_

America was, to say the least, appalled. "Germany, why did you—"

"Why would you do that to your own brother?!" China snapped.

"I did what was best for the group," Germany quietly said.

"He _was_ a part of the group!" France said. "I thought we fought for each other, not against each other!"

"Look, you don't under—"

"Bullshit!" Hungary snapped, startling everyone. "He's your brother! What reason could you possibly have to justify that?!"

"But I—"

"He's your brother!"

"How could you do this?!"

"You guys were family!"

"I thought you were better than this, Germany!"

"Everyone, be quiet!" Austria harshly said. "Give the man a chance!"

"… Thank you, Austria…" Germany said softly.

"So," France said impatiently, crossing his arms and glaring at Germany, "tell us."

"We—well, I—can't exactly trust him in this war, can we? He would… get in trouble."

"Trouble. As in, what, being hit by some shrapnel? That's repairable damage—"

Germany glared at France. "Trouble, as in he would get captured and be tortured for information and we wouldn't know where the hell he was unless we forfeited the war."

"…Oh."

"Er… have you forgotten I'm here?" Jonas asked.

Germany sighed and turned towards Jonas. "How can we trust you?"

"I know where your silver haired friend is, and how to get him back."

"And?"

"Well, I'm willing to make a deal. If you waive all of the 'charges', I'll get your friend back, and I'll fight for you. Deal?"

"We have no other choice, do we?"

"Not unless you want your friend to be trapped under Yuki Onna's rule forever."

"Yuki Onna?" America asked. "Who's she?"

"Spirit of the snow," Japan answered.

"What's she got to do with him?"

"Well, she has him under some type of mind control," Jonas said. "Right now, he's in a coma-like state, but I don't expect him to stay like that…"

"Mind control?"

"She—Yuki—has some type of control over him. So long as he's in her realm, or her mindset, we can't exactly help him."

"And… why wouldn't he stay like that?"

Jonas sighed. "This type of mind control's called psycho-optics, or _zychenics_. Basically, she controls what he sees (which is why he'll look freaky). Because of that, it influences what he thinks, and in that way, she controls him. He still has a grip on reality, just a very loose one."

"And you know how to get him out of this?"

"Yes, but that's why we'll need everyone."

"Why?"

"Well, someone needs to distract him at some point. Another person needs to attack him. Another person needs to attack Yuki and keep her away from your friend, and I'll have to break the spell."

"So… who's going?"

"We'll… figure it out along the way."

"Why?"

"Because, it looks as if they're going to evacuate everyone shortly."

And it did. The sky was dark with smoke and clouds of dust. Bright red flames leapt and roared, showering down shimmering embers. Metal shrapnel littered the blood-stained ground, along with bloodied wooden splinters. Some pieces of twisted armor were scattered across the ground; one helmet was bloodied, with a massive dent in it, a sword that was broken, and a chest plate that had a break in it. Birds flew off in the distance, and pained shrieks pierced the air.

"They should," Germany said.

"They should, but it doesn't mean that they will. You have to remember, this is their city. They'll put up a damn good fight to protect it, and, if they can't save it, they'll burn it down."

A period of long silence elapsed slowly.

"Who do you think will die?" America asked.

"Me?" Jonas asked.

"Yeah. Who do you think will die?"

"What do you mean?"

"There was this prophecy that said three of us had to die."

"Well, the good ones always die before their time. Judging from all of you… I'd say it'd be you," Jonas said, pointing a finger at America. "You'd be one of them."

_Russia never did hear a single thing. Here, trapped in his own mind. Well… in what was left of it. The untouched parts, the ones that Yuki hadn't been able to control, were his to keep. For now. But, soon—he knew this much, the awful truth! how he wished to avoid it!—nothing would be kept as his. _

_He never truly saw anything either. True, it was a kind of dream, but it wasn't a real image. Nothing that he saw nor heard was real, in any way. Nothing… except for the haunting silence that pained and irritated him, because he knew no one was there. Except for the monsters that he couldn't see, but he knew they crept around; he could feel their footsteps shake the earth, and their icy breath on his skin. And, he could feel the growing numbness along his back and legs, as the snow melted underneath him and froze on his coat. _

_But, he couldn't wake up. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn't. _

_And, yet, barely for a second, Russia heard someone say something. Something about some visitors…_

_Who? Who were the visitors? The others? He hoped it was; he couldn't stand being here much longer, in this abysmal place._

"_Get up," a harsh voice commanded, and, unwillingly, Russia did so. "We're expecting visitors soon. Unwelcome ones… get a sword, and be ready to kill."_

Everyone stood around a wooden docking area, where several large birds perched on wooden pegs, awaiting the signal to take off. Guards paced around, their swords clinking at their sides, and soldiers darted to and fro, barking orders at each other. Prussia had been brought back to the group, though he mostly sulked and glared at Germany while muttering to himself. A group of guards stayed close to him, for fear that he might be captured in the midst of war, even though it was an irrational fear. The guards also congregated around Jonas, who simply whistled and sharpened his sword. Germany had started to strip off his armor and stuff it into a bag, seeing that there was no more use for it at the moment; right now, he had gotten the lower half of armor off, and was working on the chest plate.

The people had, eventually, given the signal to evacuate everyone else out, due to the fact that their army has sustained many casualties. The city was near obliterated, the castle crumbling down. And, when everyone was safely away, they were going to destroy the city, so that the enemy couldn't use it.

"Start packing up," one of the guards said, glancing towards the birds. "We're leaving shortly."

"'Kay," America said tiredly, rubbing at an ash stain on his sleeve.

"Can't believe it," Hungary muttered. "First day here, and the city's already gone."

"Not even a day," Austria said.

"It's not fair, though. They didn't deserve this…"

"I know. But, we can't stop it now."

"Germany, what's going to happen?" Italy asked.

"We'll be moved to a military base until the war's ended," Germany answered, getting the chest plate off and stuffing it into the bag.

"What else?"

"…That's pretty much it. Some of us will stay at camp. Others will go out to the frontline and fight. That's it."

"Will you leave?"

"Maybe. But, you'll have the others to look after you."

"Sir," one guard said, tapping Germany's shoulder.

"Yes?"

"We'll be leaving in three minutes."

"…Thank you."

"So… some of us will be soldiers?" America asked, as the guard walked away. He noticed that a lot of the guards were lugging packs of supplies, from food and water to clothes and medical equipment.

"Probably. They'll need the help. Tell everyone they need to start packing up. We're leaving soon." Germany turned and wandered off a little ways before stopping at an ash mound.

"Fine." America sighed and turned towards the group. "We need to pack up! We're leaving in three minutes! The sooner we leave, the better!"

All of them looked up at America, and it was startling to see them all. All of them looked beat-to-hell. Dirt smudges, blood stains, cuts, bruises, disheveled hair, and torn clothing. The one that looked the best, out of all of them, was Italy, but he was still bruised. America could count three seeable ones, one on his arm, another on his shoulder, and one on his cheek, all of them a medium size. Who knew what others were concealed?

"Fine," China sighed. "Japan, come on. We need to look for some things in the castle."

Japan gave America a sad, half-hearted wave before turning and joining China's side as they trotted up to the castle. Everyone else started to pack up the few belongings they still had, chatting anxiously about what could happen next. Who would be a soldier? Who could die? What would happen?

"Do we really have to go?" Italy asked, tugging America's sleeve.

"Yeah, Italy, we have to go," America replied, glancing back at Germany, who had started to sift through the ash mound. "It's not safe here."

"But I liked it here," Italy said sadly, his hand dropping to his side. "It was so pretty."

"I know it was. It was pretty. Maybe when it's all over, they'll rebuild the city, and it'll look even prettier."

"Maybe…" Italy walked over to Austria, who was packing up some spare clothes, while Hungary carried a neon red first-aid kit.

America turned back to Germany. "What're you doing?"

Quietly, Germany stood up and faced America, a charred box in his hands. America could faintly see small etchings in it, and a knob that had a small flower carved into it. Did it pull open a drawer? A small, metal handle was attached to the side. The lid on it had been burnt badly, but there was a faint tree on it. Perhaps it had been a picture of a landscape?

"What's that?"

"A music box," Germany replied more to himself than to America, flipping the box over. "Strange. Haven't seen a music box this detailed in the castle… 'To Jessarae. Happy birthday! From Mommy. June eighteenth, 2015.' Serial number of 058216. Well, we're a few years behind, aren't we?" He sounded as if he already knew Jessarae, and that he was only telling America because it could somehow benefit him. He flipped it back over to the top and pulled up the lid. A small ballerina sprang out of it, in an arabesque pose. The ballerina had blackish hair that was tied back in a bun, and she wore a light blue outfit.

"It belonged to a kid?"

"Who else would want a ballerina music box?" Germany began to wind up the music box with the handle, stopping when it began to click. Slowly, a bell-like tune floated out, the ballerina twirling along with it. After about ten seconds of the tune, though, the music began to go sour, the metallic notes becoming shriller and creepier. Finally, Germany shut the music box, and the music ended with a last shrill note. Apparently, the music mechanism had been damaged by the fire.

"Well, the box's fried. Can we go now?" America asked.

"Wonder where Jessarae went…" Germany quietly wondered, fiddling with the box.

"Germany, we need to go."

"Then again, who would care?" He looked up at America from the battered music box. "Ever felt helpless before? Like you could do everything in the world, but yet you couldn't?"

America sighed. "Germany, we need to—"

"I heard you the first time."

"Just… hurry up, would ya?"

"I'd worry more about England and France at the moment…"

America quickly looked back at the group, and saw that England and France has started to bicker again. Luckily, they weren't fighting yet, but it seemed close to it.

"I doubt they'll hurt each other," America said. "Not with everyone around."

"You haven't been around the two for long, have you?" Germany asked, shrugging off his backpack and stuffing the box into it. "Trust me; they'll fight, even if there's people around."

"One minute!" a guard shouted. Just then, China and Japan came jogging back, Japan carrying a red pack with a white plus sign on it, while China dragged along a navy blue suitcase.

"Where have you been?!" England snapped.

"We needed some supplies, didn't we?" China said. "We managed to find some spare clothes, some food, and a lot of medical supplies."

"And? You shouldn't have gone in there! For all we know, the roof could've collapsed on you!"

"Then you should've stopped us."

"I didn't know you were leaving!"

"It's your fault then."

"Quit bickering and get a move on!" Germany said, slinging his backpack across his shoulder. "The sooner we leave, the better!"

"Yeah, sure…" America sighed and turned back to the group. "C'mon! Time to go!" America turned back to Germany. "Where to?"

"The dock. We can travel by either sea or air. There's a river we can use, and the sky's relatively clear now." Germany set off towards the dock, America and the others trailing along behind him, China glaring across at England.

"Which is where?"

"Northward for one kilometer."

"Sounds easy enough, right?"

"Not quite."

"'Not quite?'"

"Considering everything's been torn down, then, yes, it'll be hard to navigate."

"Why?"

"Much of the directions were based off of landmarks. If the guards can't remember where the landmarks were, then we have a slim chance of getting to the dock on time before the castle blows. Besides, if we did know the path, the debris would make getting through the city even harder."

"Wait. 'Before the castle blows'?"

"They put a bomb within the castle. It's set to detonate at a specific time or before it, if we get to the dock early. Trust me, you don't want to be around it. The bombs they have are very powerful."

"How powerful?"

"Put it this way: if I stood at the farthest point in the castle from the middle of the forest, which is easily one hundred kilometers (or even more), or about sixty two miles to you, and they detonated a bomb there the size of a pillow, I would be able to hear the sound of the bomb exploding, even in a room with meter thick walls made of steel. And a ten kilometer circle around the detonation site would be cleared of trees and grass, while another ten to twenty kilometers would have knocked down trees. However, the trees there are soft wood trees, and the wood would be softer due to the recent rain. If they were hard wood trees, only five to ten kilometers would be knocked down. Plus, the bomb's energy vaporizes quickly into the air. However, they have at least two metric tonnes worth of the bombs, so it's important to keep them away from the enemy at all costs…."

"Really? Fuck…"

"Exactly. And the bomb they're going to set off is the size of a two meter high bookcase that is one meter thick, which connects to all of the other parts of the city through wires that lead to other bombs. Those bombs are a deadly combination of nitroglycerin, resin, and gunpowder. As soon as the bomb in the castle detonates, all the other bombs will within a second. Unless we can get away from the city at the speed of sound, as soon as the bomb detonates, there's a hundred percent chance we'll get third degree burns, severe radiation poisoning, and become deaf for a month or two. That's if we're only five kilometers away, though."

"You have to make everything sound bad, don't you?" America asked, stepping over a chunk of blasted marble.

"Trust me, the effects lower with every kilometer," Germany said, ducking under a leaning pillar. "With ten kilometers, we don't have as high of a chance for getting third degree burns, but we'll still go deaf for a month. Fifteen kilometers ensures we'll get second degree ones and deafness for about three weeks. Twenty gives us a fifty percent chance of getting a second degree burn and one and a half weeks of deafness. Twenty-five gives us only small, first degree burns and an unpleasant ringing in the ears for three days. It's ideal to be thirty kilometers away, as we'll have no negative effects and the damaging sound and radiation waves would have dissipated. The worst we would get from the bomb at that distance would be some choppy waves from the sound wave energy transferring to the water."

"Which will take us how long, exactly?"

"With the wind blowing at about eight kilometers per hour in a southwest direction, it'd slow us down slightly. If the boats travel at an average pace of one kilometer per minute (which seems impossible for a boat, but it really isn't), minus some minor drag, we'd get to the safe point in about thirty minutes. The birds will fly at about the same rate."

"So we need to be at the dock by when?"

"We need to be at the dock by one thirty, as the bomb's set to blow at two."

"And what time is it now?"

"About one o'nine."

"So we have roughly seventeen minutes."

"Pretty much."

The rest of the trip passed by in silence. Occasionally, someone would trip over something and swear, something would clang against something else, or someone would ask a question that would go unanswered. The path, as Germany had said, was littered with debris, from wooden and metal scraps to entire pillars and statues being knocked over. A fire still flickered on a pile of tapestries. Swords and guns lay scattered around, some twisted, most charred and bloodied.

They reached the dock at about one twenty-seven, partly because Germany started to rush them at one twenty-three. A long river winded through the landscape, the ripples in the water highlighted by the moonlight. The water was a pitch black colour, and the waves gently lapped at the white sand shore. A wooden dock led out about fifteen meters into the river, and long boats were tied to the wooden posts as they bobbed in the water. The boats were a dirty white colour with red seats, and algae grew on the bottom of the boat. A propeller sat at the back of each boat, and a black steering wheel at the front was surrounded by other buttons and levers. The moon was shrouded by black clouds, the moonlight flickering through the gaps and crevices in the clouds. The dock creaked and moaned as it swayed slightly in the wind.

"This is it?" America asked.

"What did you expect it to be?" Germany asked, drawing out his sword. The hilt glowed an eerie blue.

"Something more fancy, I guess."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"So… which will we be taking?" Japan asked. "Boats or birds?"

"You're still considered civilians. You'll be taking the boats. All soldiers will fly by birds except the guards stationed at each boat."

"But, what if we want to fly?" America said.

"Then you'll have to fly with one of the soldiers that has a bird."

"Do you?"

"Of course! What aero-soldier doesn't have a bird?"

"Alright, where's your bird?"

Germany paused for a moment, glanced around, then pulled out a sleek white whistle and blew it. It had a shrill, piercing sound that made everyone cringe.

"Do you really have to do that?" Austria asked, rubbing his ear.

"Unless you don't want to see my bird," Germany said, stowing the whistle away.

"Wait, do you have an eagle?" America asked.

"You'll see when she comes over."

"So your bird's a she? Cool!"

"Yes, the bird's a she. Nothing too amazing."

"What does she look like?"

"You'll find out when she arrives."

"Which'll be when?"

"Look up."

"Wait, why?" But, America did look up, and saw a brightly coloured bird fluttering down to the dock beside of Germany. It resembled a parrot, with its bright plumage, but it had the physique of an eagle. Its feathers were a beautiful array of blue, red, and yellow, its chest being a cream white, and its tail feathers being blue and red. Its wings were at least four meters long, and it had a body length of one hundred and ninety centimeters. A leather saddle was strapped to her, the straps running across her chest and belly. It was certainly a beautiful bird.

"What's her name?" Italy asked, running up to pet the bird's head.

"Truthfully, I've yet to name her… you want to name her?"

"Really? I can name her? Oh, okay! Let's name her… Alessa!"

"Alessa it is, then." He turned back to the guards and said, "Start loading the boats up!" He turned back to the nations and said, "Pick a boat to get into. Three per boat (one guard included), plus some supplies. Jonas, you'll be sitting with two guards."

"But, if we do that, there'll have to be an extra person in a boat or one that'll have to ride alone," Austria said. "There'll be sixteen people."

"I'm not sitting with Austria or Hungary at all," Prussia muttered. "At all. You can forget it."

"Then someone sits alone or flies," Germany said. "Simple as that."

"It'll mess up my hair," France said.

"Of course you're worried about your hair," England said.

"Oh, and what's _your _reason?"

"I don't particularly care for heights."

"I'd prefer to be in an airplane if I were flying," America said.

"I could fall," China shyly said.

"It'd be an inconvenience I'd rather avoid," Japan said.

"Hungary and I are going to sit together," Austria said.

"Pff! That's your reason?" Prussia asked.

"And I know you won't fly," Hungary said.

"And why would that be?"

"Because, last time you went skydiving with your brother, you screamed half the way down and cried the other half."

"I did not!"

"I'm sorry. You screamed and cried for half the time, and clung to your brother for the other half."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"You're sitting with France. Argument solved!" Germany said. "Italy's sitting with me!"

"Why? Why aren't you letting me fly? You owe me!" Prussia said.

"I owe you nothing."

"You sent me away!"

"You took a thousand euros from me!"

"That was a year ago! It's invalid!"

"You also killed my fish when you overfed it!"

"You can do that?"

"Yes! And you wrecked my car!"

"Look, that was Austria's—"

"Then why did you get sent to the ER? Austria has more sense than you!"

"Actually, he doesn't! Have you seen that priss try to fight?"

"You're sitting with France! End of discussion! And don't even try to persuade me otherwise!"

"One thirty!" a guard shouted.

"Pick a boat and get in. If you're not happy where you're sitting when the boats take off, tough luck. Italy, come on."

By the time everyone had picked out and gotten into a boat, they had wasted two minutes, which managed to anger Germany, and he said they now had to recalculate everything. France and Prussia sat in one boat, China and Japan in another, America and England in another, Austria and Hungary in another, and Jonas sat in the last one.

"England," America quietly said, leaning over and poking England's shoulder. England sat on the right side of the boat, while America sat on the left. "What do you think will happen if the bomb goes off?" The boat lurched into motion, the propeller spraying up water into the boat. The birds quickly soared overhead, and America saw Italy wave down at him while clinging on to Germany.

"What all bombs do, twit," England muttered. "Destroy the city."

"No, like, what if we don't get out the blast radius? What'll happen?"

"Well, what did Germany say will happen? Radiation poisoning, deafness, and burns."

"But… the radiation poisoning… what'll that do to us?"

"Nausea, blood cell decrease which then leads to lack of oxygen, hair loss, infection, and a lot of other things. Nothing that's too pleasant or easily fixed."

"Anything else?"

"Disorientation, organ damage, fever, shock, and a lot of other nasty symptoms."

America glanced back at the city. It seemed so peaceful… yet, five ticking bombs were inside of it. And if they didn't get away fast enough, they were in serious trouble. No wonder Germany had thrown such a fit when they were two minutes late for departure. Every minute wasted was less time to get to a safe distance.

"Pretty bad, huh?" England said.

"Yeah… you know the entire prophecy thing, right?" America asked.

"Don't even start on who's going to die. We all think we are."

"But, Jonas said I would. Why?"

"He said the good-hearted die first."

"But, everyone's good-hearted. Even you. So, that makes everyone a candidate."

"You better not be lying, first off. And, secondly, everyone's a candidate. Don't think Jonas is one, though, after what he did to Prussia."

"So we're back to the nations. Who's it?"

"Three had to die, America. There's eleven of us, right? If it's all inclusive to us, then there's an approximate nine percent chance of one of us being it. Pretty low chance."

"And? There's still a chance."

"There's a chance for everything. That just means you have a ninety one percent chance of living."

"Still… who do you think will die?"

"Other than myself? France, China, and Austria. Your picks?"

"Prussia, Hungary, and Russia."

"You pick all of the tough people. The former empires and the largest nation on Earth."

"And you picked the lover, the old-timer, and the musician. You know China's too smart to die, France is 'too pretty' to die (and he had Napoleon), and Austria's protected by Hungary."

"Prussia's militaristic and tactical, Hungary knows how to beat the shit out of people, and Russia will scare the enemy away."

"Alright, what's the obvious picks?"

"None, unless you want to count Italy."

"Germany will guard Italy like Switzerland guards Liechtenstein."

"So Italy's out of the question. Who else?"

"Japan might be it—"

"But the guy's strong as well, although old."

America sighed. "Then who is it?"

"Well, Germany might be it," England suggested. "But, Prussia's his brother, and two tactical, militaristic guys know how to defend themselves pretty damn well. Germany's out of the question."

"Well, you're out of the question as well."

"How so?"

"Your magic spells and shit. You can blast the enemy away and summon the devil."

"And you can kick the enemy's ass so hard, they won't walk straight for a month and they'll cough up shoe leather."

"So, there's no obvious choice."

"Exactly. There's no obvious choice."

"But, what if it isn't inclusive to us?"

England paused for a moment. "Then there's an even less chance of us dying."

"…England?"

"Yeah."

"There's no specific time for any of us to die, right?"

"Not that I've heard. Why?"

"Because, we could die tonight and not even know it." Vaguely, he heard Hungary snapping at someone while Austria muttered under his breath, which was possibly Prussia because he was laughing so hard. Or France, as both were laughing and high-fiving each other. China kept pointing out some constellations to Japan, quietly chatting about his favourite ones. America could hear someone humming softly to themselves. Everything seemed so serene…

"You know, we could also die in ten years," England said. "We still have a ways to go."

"I don't think a war like this could last ten years."

"Look at the Hundred Years War."

"One of the many squabbles between you and France. You managed to lose."

"Shockingly. I lost to a man that makes love to his face and can't go five hours—no, minutes—without looking at himself."

"And you haven't lost anything?"

"Nope. Never officially defeated."

"Then you've had a lucky streak, eh?"

"It's not luck. It's a fatal combination of skills and cunning."

England snorted. "You sound like France. And, besides, I don't think it's that good."

"Oh? Why, eyebrows? Are you _jealous_?"

"One, if you call me eyebrows one more time, I'll rip yours off. Two, you're about as cunning as a dead cat."

"I am not!"

"Really? The last time we did the reflex test, you managed to hit the paper wad after it hit your head and started falling."

"Look, I didn't start my morning with coffee, okay?! Besides, you didn't do much better!"

"Still did better than you. That's all that counts. I beat you."

"You must really be deprived of victories then."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"'Am not' and don't even think about arguing otherwise."

"…Are too."

England sighed. "And you wonder why everyone tends to call you a thorn in their ass, eh?"

"They do that?"

"Yeah. We assign offensive names to everyone. You managed to get Ass Thorn."

"That's not nice at all."

"Nope, but that's how work goes. We nitpick and bicker and insult the shit out of each other."

"Well, we'll have three less people to insult after the war, huh?"

England was silent for a moment, then sighed and said, "Look, quit looking at this in a negative light. None of us could actually die. It never specified who would die or when."

"I thought you always said to assume and prepare for the worst in war, Artie. That's your motto, isn't it?"

"Not this time, though. Well, maybe a little, but try to think positive and hope for the best."

"Hoping is all we can do at this point, right? Everything's playing out like a book. We can't read ahead. We can only read the book chapter by chapter, page by page, and we won't know the ending until we're there. And we'll be shocked at what happened and wonder why the author had to do that to us and tear us up inside. That's pretty much how it'll end up, right?"

"When did you get philosophical?"

"When you started calling me an ass thorn."

"I don't call you an ass thorn. The others do."

"Then who does?"

"It's an old name we're dropping."

"Why?"

"We've just entered a war, haven't we? Either we stick together and live or we fall apart and die."

"Or we die trying."

The two were silent for a long time. The only sound was the whirring of the boat's engine, the propeller slapping the water, and crickets chirping. The moon shone alongside the twinkling stars, the clouds drifting slowly across the sky. A light mist had just started forming over the river, giving it an eerie, surreal feeling. The moonlight gave the mist a silvery colour that seemed to change with every movement.

When the two did decide to start talking again, it was about one fifty seven. Only three minutes until the bomb blew…

"How far are we from the city?" Germany asked, swooping down low near the captain of the boat. America saw that Italy was leaning against him, obviously asleep.

He captain glanced down at a complicated watch-like device, which had many needles adorned with different signs at each point, and said, "About thirty-three kilometers."

"Start slowing down, then. We're going to waste all of our gas that way."

"Yessir." With that, Germany took back off to the skies, the thickening mist making it harder to see him, even though his bird flew only four meters above the river surface.

The boat slowed down to about ten kilometers per hour, and the boat gently rocked with the waves that lapped.

A crack of thunder shook the sky, and all of the nations jumped, startled by the abrupt sound. Lightning shot across the clouds like an illuminated silk thread, disappearing in less than a second. Rain started drizzling down slowly and silently, spotting the lake with tiny droplets and making the boats even wetter.

"Really?" America heard France snap. "After I spent _all of this time_ perfecting my hair?"

"Then don't try so hard," Prussia snickered. "Better yet, don't bother with your hair outdoors."

"Coming from the man who has hair like England's!"

"No, England's hair is the worst you can get. You never compare anyone's hair to England's."

"You do realize I can hear you?" England shouted, as lightning split across the sky and thunder cracked.

"Go back to your corner!"

"We're in boats!"

"And? Mind your own business!"

"Can you all shut up?!" Germany yelled.

"Make me!"

"I will get Hungary to whip your ass so hard, you won't have an ass!"

"Pff. Hungary can't do too much damage—"

"Says the man that came back with three missing teeth and four broken ribs after his encounter with Hungary."

"Did not! Two ribs and three teeth!"

"So you did get your ass kicked?"

"No. Never have, never will."

"That's not what Poland and Lithuania would say."

"They ambushed me!"

"It doesn't matter! Shut up!"

Prussia grumbled something to himself before turning back to France, obviously sulking.

"No, England doesn't make his scones from the 'essence of ass'."

"Wha—how did you even hear that?!"

"Haven't you learned at all?!"

"But—how? Only dad could do that (or was he granddad?)!"

"Obviously, he isn't the only one."

"Why would I…" England started, then shook his head. "Never mind anymore."

"Your scones do taste like ass," America said.

"So I've been told. And, no, they don't!"

"Prussia almost died from eating your damn scones once!"

"Alright, when?"

"Six years ago, eyebrows!" Prussia hollered back.

"I thought you said you had short-term memory!"

"You don't forget a near-death experience, brows!"

"See?" America said, gesturing to Prussia with his hand. "I told you he almost died!"

"He lies," England huffed. "Just like everyone else here does and has done."

"You're a pleasant person, y'know?"

"I can be pleasant when I want to be—"

"And that's usually when you want something."

"No, it isn't!"

"Yeah, it is. I can come up with plenty of times you were nice to—"

Suddenly, there was a boom, ten times louder than the thunder cracks, and a bright flash of light. America quickly twisted around in his seat (as did the other nations) and faced the castle, as the first bomb went off. It almost seemed to be in slow-motion; how the explosion expanded outwards, breaking apart the walls of the castle in a bluish blur, the castle disintegrating into dust and slabs, and the massive smoke column that rose upwards from the wreckage soon after. Then, the other bombs; each of the sectors exploded into bright red flames that gnawed at the last standing structures and the debris that had managed to survive. The flames clawed towards the clouds, the red and yellow flickering against the black and blue clouds that pelted rain down. And it all lasted barely five seconds. Smoke curled into the clouds, and the fires burned brightly, even with the rain and the wind that now made the river water choppy.

The entire city, gone with one stroke. A city that probably took ten years to build only took five seconds to tear back down, to reduce it to nothingness.

And, finally, it clicked. Why Germany had spoken about Jessarae like she was his child. How he felt he could have done everything to have saved her, yet he couldn't. How he had been helpless to stop what had happened to her. In a way, she was like Italy, too sweet and innocent. She was a child, and Italy acted like a child. Her death had almost been like Italy's death.

Germany didn't want to feel helpless again, especially when it concerned Italy.


End file.
